This Cupid Isn't Stupid
by AllThingsAnime123
Summary: Dean receives a shock when he wakes up to discover Castiel has returned. Why is the angel suddenly back? Why have his powers dimmed? And.. Why are he and Dean joined together by an invisible rope! Destiel! Enjoy! R&R greatly appreciated! :D
1. I'm All Out Of Love

_I'm all out of love_

_I'm so lost without you_

_I know you were right_

_Believing for so long_

_I'm all out of love_

_What am I without you?_

_I can't be too late to say that I was so wrong_

Today _had_ to be Valentines' Day. The most pointless holiday ever invented.

Sam scowled as he picked up the coffee cups on the diner counter in front of him, eyes fixed on the heart-shaped confetti littering the tables. He had lost track of time and day completely recently what with having rather more pressing matters on his mind, but walking into the diner brought his memory back with a snap. Everything was pink and red, hearts and arrows, tables taken by nothing but couples. A handful of people were sitting alone at the stools in front of the counter nearby, looking just as bitter at the holiday as he did, but he suspected for very different reasons. He highly doubted that any of _them_ had had to face Famine around this time of year not that long ago.

Still scowling, he whirled around and pushed his way through the door, kicking it shut with his heel. He was already teetering on the brink of a full-scale hissy fit, and the tacky decorations of the day weren't helping. The only point of the whole holiday in Sam's opinion was for shops to sell themed products, for the sales of chocolates, flowers and little cuddly toys to go through the roof and for anyone who wasn't currently in a relationship to feel hostile towards any who were. And that didn't add up to much of a holiday.

What only made his temper worse was that he'd had barely any sleep last night due to Dean bursting into their motel room, screaming bloody murder because Castiel's trench coat had gone missing. Sam hadn't even known Dean still had the coat stuffed somewhere about his person, but apparently he had and had noticed its disappearance shortly after their arrival at the motel.

Which could only mean he periodically checked that it was still wherever he hid it. And if Dean hadn't looked liable to explode if Sam so much as commented, he kept this observation to himself.

Trying to avoid an argument with his brother who was already looking close to an emotional breakdown, Sam had complied with Dean's request and helped his brother to search for the dead angel's precious coat. Their fruitless search resulted in nothing but failure, however. The coat had somehow been swiped from the boot of whatever car they'd stolen this time around, but all of their gear had been left alone, completely untouched. This had been Dean's number one problem; according to him, to find the coat, the thief must have dug their way past their duffel bag and their hunting weapons. Surely a boot full of knives, guns and other assorted armaments was enough to warrant questioning, or to act as a deterrent for anyone breaking into their car? So why had the thief simply disregarded these other items as if they were utterly normal, and made off with a _coat_?

And what was so special about the coat anyway that someone would risk breaking into the car of some complete stranger? Especially after they'd discover the vast array of weaponry awaiting them. Having the boot of your car filled with things like that would only succeed in painting you out to be some sort of whackjob, so why would the thief continue in their task and steal the coat? And just how the heck would they know it was _there_ in the first place? Not even _Sam_ was aware that the coat was still with them. It just didn't make any sense.

The conundrum had kept him awake for most of the evening. While Dean stormed off in the direction of the town and logically the local bar, Sam remained at the motel, mulling it all over. It couldn't have been a demon, because of the protective sigils Dean had personally carved into the inside of the boot. It wasn't any other supernatural creature that Sam could think of, because in moving their belongings, they would have had to touch silver at some point, and most creatures had rather nasty reactions once coming into contact with that particular metal. Not to mention the salt heaped everywhere, _and_ the fact Dean had left the car for a minute, two tops. The theft would have had to have taken place within seconds. He felt he could also safely rule out a fellow hunter, because one, why would another hunter rob them, and two, wouldn't they have tried to take something more valuable like the Colt rather than a dirty old trench coat?

Dean had returned a while after all the bars closed, and promptly collapsed onto his bed, falling asleep almost instantly. Sam hadn't even attempted to make enquiries with his brother about the missing coat; he'd be lucky to get so much as a grunt in response. So he remained lying on his own bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling above his head, wondering just what could have managed to break into their car, and what their fascination with Castiel's old trench coat was.

After a while, he supposed he had fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, sunlight was streaming in through the window. Dean was still snoring gently on his bed, and it hadn't taken Sam long to grow sick of the noise and the cramped room. He therefore chose to leave before he started climbing the walls out of sheer frustration. Coffee. If they were going to be alert and hunting, they would need sustenance, especially after his practically sleepless night. But his trip to the diner had done little to improve his temper, and as he reached the motel complex again, he was still glowering. The thought of being stuck inside that small room was not appealing. At all.

He was just reaching into his pocket for the key when he heard it.

"SON OF A _BITCH_!"

Sam froze in his tracks, the coffee cups tumbling to the floor. Only Dean's voice could reach that level of volume and menace, and judging by his wording, his outcry was because of nothing good. Pulling his gun from the waistband at the back of his jeans, Sam ran forward and threw their motel room door open, lunging in with his gun raised.

What he saw made him almost drop his weapon.

Dean was sitting on the edge his bed, but he was by no means alone.

Directly next to him, definitely in violation of his older brother's personal space, stood another figure. Short, dark hair lay plastered to the man's head, dribbling water down the sides of his face. He held himself straight-backed and resolute, his posture similar to that of a solider. His body was encased in a sodden darkly coloured suit which clung to his frame, dripping water. And draped around his body on top of this was the trench coat. It was the only dry thing about the man; everything else was leaking water onto the motel carpet, creating a dark stain where he stood. Deep, piercing blue eyes stared directly at Sam as he stood locked in the doorway, his gun still pointing towards the being that he knew would suffer no damage from his bullets.

"_Castiel_?" He gasped, eyes wide and staring.

"Hello, Sam." The angel replied in his usual deep voice.

Sam reeled, backing himself into a chair before his knees collapsed out from underneath him. "How..?" Was all he managed to say as he slid his gun onto the smooth tabletop.

The last he had heard of Castiel, the angel was dead. Again. He had become corrupt under the power of the Leviathans, and had walked himself into the middle of a reservoir. Well, at least that seemed to explain why he was sopping wet. As he watched, Castiel's eyes flicked to Dean and settled on him, even though it was Sam that had spoken. Sam rolled his eyes, too used to this behaviour to care.

"I am unsure. I believe my Father chose to bring me back." Castiel said, and then added as an afterthought, "Again."

"Well, how did you get here? Your sigils are still on our ribs, right?" Sam asked, his voice regaining a little of its former strength.

"That is correct, yes. But I am unsure as to how I found you." The angel finally turned to look back at Sam.

"What? What are you talking about?" Sam's head was spinning.

"I felt myself being dragged upwards and the next thing I knew, I was inside this room."

"So you didn't take your coat from our car..?" Sam asked, fearing that he already knew the answer. His fears were confirmed when Castiel's head tipped in his trademark head tilt.

"No, of course not. I was wearing it when I found myself to be conscious once again."

Sam frowned. Something was wrong here. His eyes strayed to his elder brother. Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows propped on his kneecaps, face buried in the palms of his hands. Sam's confused frown deepened as he observed this particular behaviour. Every time he'd considered the angel returning to them, he'd pictured Dean all but running to Castiel and pulling him into a tight hug. That was how Winchesters worked; rise from the dead, get a hug. No matter what Castiel had done in the lead-up to his death, the fact was he'd tried to right his wrongs. Sam knew that Dean had been struggling to cope with the loss of his closest friend, and that to see the angel alive and well again would usually have been cause for celebration.

And yet, Dean was acting like Castiel was still dead, not standing a few feet from him alive and well.

"Dean?" Sam asked, eyebrows knotting in confusion. "What's bugging you? Castiel's back again."

"Trust me Sammy, I'm more aware of that than you are.." Dean grumbled, lifting his head to glare. "I don't need you to point out the obvious."

"Well then, what..?"

Before Sam could utter another word, Dean suddenly yanked his right arm forwards violently. To Sam's immense shock, Castiel's left arm rose and he stumbled forwards, almost falling right over. Sam felt his jaw drop as Dean leapt to his feet, and raised his arm. Sam's eyes followed Castiel's as it too rose and hung limply a short distance from the height Dean's had stopped at. It was almost as if their arms were joined by some sort of rope, but there was nothing between their limbs. Sam stared at the gap between their arms, trying to spot any signs of some sort of binding material, but there was simply nothing there. Well, nothing that the human eye could see, at least.

"What the hell..?" Sam muttered, also getting to his feet in order to have a closer inspection.

"I have no idea," Dean growled, sounding positively furious. "I just woke up and found Cas lying next to me. I freaked, scrambled away, and he was pulled along with me."

"Dean then felt it was appropriate to yell a profanity at the top of his voice." Castiel muttered dryly.

Dean scowled at the angel, before glaring at his arm as if the offending limb was the sole cause of whatever had happened. "What I want to know," He snarled, "Is who in their right minds would think this is _funny_?"


	2. I Never Should Have Let You Go

_So tell me what to do to make you change your mind_

_I wish that I could find a way to turn back time_

'_Cos life's just not the same since you've been gone_

_I never should have let you go_

'_Cos I'm falling to pieces_

_I just wanna let you know that I can't keep pretending_

_"Cupid_?" Sam cried incredulously, eyeing his brother with shock. "You think a _Cupid_ could do this?"

As he spoke, he indicated to the gap between Dean and Castiel's arms. They were unable to move more than a few feet from one another, and movement was greatly restricted. When Sam had first approached to get a better look, Castiel had moved his arm closer in a sudden movement and Sam had had to leap backwards to avoid Dean's arm as it swung dangerously close to where his face had just been. Afterwards, he had tried to pass his hand between their arms. At first glance, even up close, his eyes told him there was nothing there. But his hand was definitely catching on something hanging between them. After that, Sam had retreated once again, his brow furrowed in confusion. Not long after, the topic had turned to what could have caused it.

"Don't you remember the last one we dealt with?" Dean snapped in reply. "They're so obsessed with love; they'd go to any means to see it!"

"Yeah but this is totally different to what Cupids are meant to do!"

"Sam is right, Dean." Castiel said. "Cupids use their own magic to achieve their means, but never in this sense. Usually, the two individuals experience overwhelming desires until they both concede to said wants. But I have never heard of a Cupid sealing two beings together in this way before. This would be most unusual, even for a rogue Cupid."

"How are you affected anyway?" Dean growled, rounding on Castiel instead. "How is it that an _angel_ has been infected by a _Cupid_? I thought you guys were supposed to be more powerful than this."

Castiel visibly bristled, and Sam noticed his blue eyes grow slightly steely. "My Grace has been sealed away from me. My wings are bound. I am, temporarily it would seem, human."

"Wait a second. How the hell has it managed to do _that_?" Sam asked, mind racing. He had always believed that a Cupid's power was minimal, and the act of binding an angel's wings sounded like it would take one hell of a power boost.

"I believe this is an act of my Father as opposed to the Cupid." Castiel replied. "They do not possess enough power to limit my strength, nor bind my wings. This is another matter entirely."

Dean had lapsed back into silence, staring angrily at the nearest wall. Then, exasperated, he collapsed back onto the edge of his bed. Castiel staggered slightly at Dean's sudden movement, before he observed the bed before him. After a short pause, he took a seat next to Dean, folding his hands in his lap. Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. He couldn't imagine their instigator being a Cupid, it just wasn't logical. Plus there was the mystery of Castiel's sudden human form. Just what had caused _that_? Was it from the same source as their current predicament? Or something else?

Sam shook his head. Focus on one thing at a time; the most pressing matter right now was the bond between Dean and Castiel. Once they figured _that _out, there was more chance of finding out what had bound the angel into his current form. Figure this out first, work on everything else later. He took a steadying breath, trying to calm his chaotic rush of thoughts. Like Castiel had pointed out, this would be very irregular behaviour for a Cupid. But then again, it wasn't like they had any other leads, so the Cupid idea was the only thing they could go on for now.

"It _is_ the right time of year for Cupids to be out and about." He conceded, reaching into the duffel bag to pull out his laptop. "I'll see if there are any reports of people that have had stuff like this happen to them, and I'll check up on Cupid lore while I'm at it. Maybe there's a mention somewhere of them doing this before now?" He sounded ridiculous as he said it; if _Castiel_ had never heard of this happening, he highly doubted any reliable Internet source could convince him otherwise. But still, it was a shot. A long shot, but one nonetheless.

As he booted up his laptop, Sam took a seat at the table and turned back to the angel and his brother as the screen blipped slowly into life. Castiel's eyes had softened once more and he was watching Dean from the corner out of his peripheral vision. His brother was sitting in a fractionally more relaxed way, but he still looked incredibly tense. His scowl had been replaced by an irritated frown though, and he had scooted marginally closer to Castiel.

"Cas?" Sam asked suddenly, keeping his eyes fixed on his laptop screen, pretending he hadn't noticed. He doubted Dean would appreciate his younger brother spying on him on top of everything else.

"Yes, Sam?"

"How come you're human right now?"

Castiel frowned slightly as he thought. The last time he had been human had been when he had woken up in a hospital bed just before Dean and Sam had gone off to fight Pestilence. He scowled as he remembered how he had been forced to the very human means of travel via the bus, not having his wings available for a simple flight. He hadn't regained his angelic powers when he willingly followed Dean to Stull Cemetery, and he had died still entirely human. When he was brought back though, he had been restored to his full glory.

This time though..

"I believe this is my penance for my previous actions." He said, his voice dipping a little quieter as he spoke. Beside him, Dean tensed. His arm had twitched, as if he had gone to comfort the currently human angel, but then decided against it.

"He's got some sick little sense of humour, ya know." The elder Winchester growled, hands curling into fists instead. "Doesn't do a damn thing to help you, leaves you off to fend for yourself, and then decides you have to be punished after He brings you back."

Castiel breathed an almost silent sigh. "God works -"

"So help me, if you're about to say 'in mysterious ways'.." Dean trailed off, fixing Castiel with a withering glare.

Castiel's expression swiftly turned into something that was clearly modelled off one of Sam's many bitchfaces, and the younger Winchester could have sworn if the angel could understand the concept of rolling his eyes, he would have done so as he turned away from Dean. Sam resisted the almost overwhelming temptation to compare the two of them to toddlers, and turned back to his laptop. He just hoped he'd be able to find something that wasn't a complete waste of time, although he wasn't holding his breath.

* * *

><p>The hours Sam spent tapping away at the keys weren't <em>entirely<em> futile.

Almost, but not quite.

There were no other reports of cases matching Dean and Castiel's dilemma in the local area, and there was still no reporting even _vaguely_ similar to it even after he expanded his search. Not even when he went back to when everything in the supernatural world was behaving completely out of character could he find anything with even the _slimmest_ hint of similarity to the problem his brother and the angel faced. So that was a no go.

Likewise, the search for a Cupid's behaviour wasn't matching up with what they were experiencing. There just weren't any reports of Cupids physically binding two beings together. Hell, he'd even got desperate. He'd lost count of the amount of sappy, tacky Valentines' websites he'd scoured, just in the vague hope of finding something_, anything_. But no, it was all flying chubby toddler shooting magical arrows with his stupid little bow and people swooned. There weren't any records of being physically bound to another person.

But somewhere along the line, probably when he was aimlessly clicking through local news reports in a badly disguised frustrated stupor, he managed to stumble across a possible haunting in the very town they currently sat in.

"I think we're going to have to check it out." He added after he had explained this to Dean and Castiel.

"You think there's a haunting here? Little too coincidental, don't you think?" Dean muttered sceptically, throwing Sam a dark look. "I mean, when's the last time we just _happened_ to get to a new town, where there just _happens_ to be a hunt?"

Sam shrugged. "I know what you mean, but the bio fits." He waved a hand in the general direction of the laptop. "Family's hearing scratching with no sign of any rats, weird stuff's been happening to them, and there's a rumour about the kid that used to live there. I dunno about you, but to me this just screams hunt. We've looked into other stuff with less to go on."

Dean nodded, although he did so somewhat unenthusiastically. "But you got squat on this?" He lifted his arm to demonstrate what he was referring to.

Sam groaned and closed the lid of his laptop with a gentle snap. "Nothing."

"Great." Dean grumbled, dropping his arm back to the bed with a thump. "What do you suggest we do now, then?"

Sam frowned as he sat back in his seat, feeling frustration beginning to creep up on him once again. It wasn't his fault he didn't have a clue what was going on, was it? It wasn't like he was deliberately holding information back just to spite his brother. He decided to bite his tongue, though. Getting into a blazing row with Dean wouldn't get anything solved right now, and this was something they really needed to work together on. He forced his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and started when they connected with something solid. He pulled his mobile out, and stared it at for a moment before a thought occurred to him.

"We could call Bobby.. Ask him if he's heard of this before?" He suggested.

Neither Dean nor Castiel had any other ideas, so Sam made the call to the older hunter. After a couple of rings, Bobby picked up and following a hasty explanation from Sam, he agreed to travel over to meet them. Luckily, he was only an hour or so away. Sam hung up and revealed this fact to Dean, who once again pointed out how odd it was that Bobby just _happened_ to be nearby when they needed his help.

"I agree it's weird okay?" Sam admitted. "But maybe, for once, we're just being lucky?"

There was a very uncomfortable pause. Castiel's eyes flicked from Dean to Sam, waiting for one of them to break it. Dean was fixing Sam with a sceptical expression, making it plain just what he thought of that. Sam eventually rolled his eyes and distracted himself by packing his laptop into the duffel bag once again.

"I didn't say it was likely! Just that maybe it's an option!"

Once again, the silence spoke volumes; the younger Winchester could practically feel the weight of Dean's cynical gaze on his back. Sam gave a frustrated sigh and flung himself onto his bed, keeping his eyes away from Dean's. He wished that Bobby would hurry up; he couldn't stand this much longer.

However, when the older hunter eventually turned up, Sam found himself wishing he'd never thought of using him as an option.

Sam had volunteered to open the door when they heard the knock, but what he saw after he did so made him freeze in his tracks. Behind him, he heard Dean and Castiel leaping to their feet, and Dean let out a low growl.

Bobby was standing on their doorstep, but he wasn't alone.

Crowley was next to him.


	3. I'll Always Know Where You Are

_And I ran forever far away_

_And I always thought I'd end up here alone_

_Somehow the world has changed me_

_And I've come home to give you back the things they took from you_

_And I feel you now_

_I'm not alone_

_I'll always know where you are_

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" Were the first words that Dean spat upon seeing the demon in the doorway. He had stepped forwards slightly so that he partially obscured Castiel from view. The angel did not object. In fact, he seemed to shrink further behind the hunter and Sam spotted his hands curling into clenched fists underneath the folds of his still sodden trench coat.

"Believe me, I'm not here by choice." Crowley snarled, sounding every bit as menacing as Dean. "I only agreed to come because I was hoping that one of you two morons could enlighten us."

"Enlighten you about -" Sam began, but didn't get to finish.

"I don't give a damn what _you're _here for. You can get the hell away from us now," Dean barked back, "Or I'm going for the Colt."

"Dean, wait a second. Let's just listen -" Sam tried again, but this time he was interrupted by the demon.

"Much as I'd love to do that Winchester, I can't."

"What's he talking about?" Sam asked in exasperation, turning to the older hunter who had been standing next to Crowley the whole time, watching. He looked as angry as Dean, but for some reason was biting his tongue. At Sam's words, Bobby turned to face him, his expression darkening. Sam's eyebrows rose at this; he'd only ever seen that kind of look on the older hunter's face a few times.

Scowling deeply, Bobby took his hand out of where it had been resting in his jeans pocket. Sam felt a horrible lurch of anxiety in the pit of his stomach, and for the first time in a while, he prayed. He begged to any godly force listening that Bobby wasn't about to reveal what he thought he was going to. But once again, his silent pleas went ignored, and his worst fears were confirmed when Bobby's arm rose, Crowley's jerking upwards with it. He swore quietly under his breath, massaging his face with his hands.

"Got it in one, moose." Crowley snapped. "So mind telling me who you two have royally pissed off this time?" He was pointing an accusing finger over at Dean as he spoke.

"You think _we_ know?" Dean's cried furiously.

"That's why we called Bobby," Sam said, trying to keep his voice calm as the fuming demon turned to him instead. "We've got no idea what's happening here, and we needed help."

"We believe it may be a rogue Cupid." Castiel said, speaking up for the first time in a while. He was still standing partly behind Dean, and the eyes that glared at Crowley over the hunter's shoulder made it plain how he felt about their newest arrival.

Crowley scoffed as he walked into the motel room, Bobby following him somewhat reluctantly, heeling the door shut as he passed inside. Dean visibly bristled at Crowley's dismissal of his idea, and frankly Sam was surprised his brother hadn't yet launched into an attack. He supposed the only reason Dean had remained where he stood was because of the currently human angel standing just behind him. It looked, in Sam's opinion, like his brother was trying to protect Castiel, and despite the situation, he felt a small grin lacing his lips.

"You got any better ideas?" Dean asking through gritted teeth brought the younger Winchester crashing back to Earth.

"Maybe it's a demon?" Sam suggested in an attempt to break up Crowley and Dean's death glaring competition.

Crowley turned to face him, his expression derisive. "Demons have got much better things to do than chaining me to a hunter and a moron to an ang-" He trailed off as he turned back to Castiel, and a small grin inked its way onto his face. Dean stepped further in front of Castiel, now completely blocking him off from the demon, face animalistic in his fury. "I'm sorry. _Ex_-angel."

"What?" Bobby asked, looking from Castiel to Sam.

"Yeah, we dunno what's caused that either. And it's a bit too coincidental to have been different things, in my opinion." Sam replied, running a hand through his hair. "But now it's just a case of working out what's powerful enough to do that. And what brought him back in the first place."

"And you think a Cupid's got the power to do that?" Bobby asked, his scepticism clear in his voice, but not mocking as Crowley's had been.

"Honestly, no." Sam said, ignoring the glare Dean shot him. "But right now, that's all we've got to work on. It's the right time of the year, after all."

"That's true, but I've never heard of a Cupid doing this."

"Humour me, okay Bobby?" Dean snapped, his temper fraying.

"Watch your tone, boy." The older hunter retorted, rounding on Dean instead. "I've come here to try and help you figure this out, but if all you're going to do is sit and whine, I'll leave. At least you're attached to Castiel, look what I've got to deal with!" He made a gesture in the vague direction the demon stood.

"I'm still here, you know." Crowley grumbled, casting a dark look at Bobby.

"How long have you been chained together?" Sam asked, desperate to change the subject and at least hold off the seemingly inevitable fight that was looming over their heads. At the sight of Crowley's glare at Bobby, Dean had tensed further, and Sam swore he saw his brother's eyes flick to the duffel bag that lay discarded on his bed. Dean had been carrying the Colt around in it ever since the trench coat had vanished from their car, and he was no clearly debating if he could reach it and fire a shot before Crowley twigged what was going on.

And if Dean did that, well wouldn't that make things awkward? Bobby would then presumably be shackled to a dead demon, and that was if Dean managed to move quickly enough. If Crowley lost his temper, which he looked on the verge of doing, there was no knowing what he'd do. He was a demon who just happened to own a hellhound. One call and they'd be ripped to shreds, and now not even Castiel could save them. So, despite how much he'd love to have seen Crowley with a sparking bullet hole in his body, Sam had to calm things down, and fast.

The older hunter shot a withering look at the demon, who responded with a raise of his eyebrows and a tiny smirk. "Way too long." He grumbled. "I was on my way to a hunt in this town when he just appears next to me. Nearly crashed my car. Next thing I know, we can't move further apart than this." He demonstrated by tugging his arm violently to the side. Crowley's arm, locked to his side with his demonic strength, didn't budge and he merely watched as Bobby's arm suddenly lurched backwards. The gap between their arms had been eighteen inches at the most.

"Is that the same with you two?" Sam asked, looking over at Dean and Castiel, who nodded.

"Yes. We are unable to move apart further than sixteen inches."

"I thought at first Crowley was playing a joke on me." Bobby continued, his voice sounding strained.

Next to him, Crowley gasped, and pressed a hand over his chest. "Would I do a thing like that?"

"Yes." Bobby, Sam and Dean snapped in unison.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "It wasn't me, like I told you at the time. I was quite content biding my time, watching while the world fell to pieces around me, when I suddenly find myself sitting in your car. Nothing to do with me."

"So let me get this straight," Sam muttered, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. "We're looking for a creature that brought Cas back from the dead, bound his wings, chained four people to one another and had enough power spare to transport a demon from God knows where to Bobby's car?"

"Still gunning on a Cupid, Dean?" Crowley asked snidely.

"Alright, that's it you smug bastard.."

"Dean, no!"

* * *

><p>Sam had had to almost tackle Dean to the ground to stop him grabbing the Colt from their duffel. Either Bobby guessed what had nearly happened, or he wanted to leave and give Dean a chance to cool down. Either way, soon after he and Crowley left, announcing they were going to take up residence in one of the motel's spare rooms. That left Sam alone with a fuming brother and an almost mute angel.<p>

"Why'd you stop me?" Dean bellowed, not even waiting until the door had fully closed behind Crowley's retreating back. "Just let me gank the bastard!"

"We can't, Dean." Sam tried to reason.

"Like hell I can't!" Dean spat, glaring up at Sam. "Every time we work with him on something, he finds a way to jerk us about! I'm not letting him do it again, Sam, not after.." He suddenly stopped, and his gaze flicked momentarily to Castiel.

Sam sighed gently, his frustration evaporating on the spot. "I get it Dean, I do. But right now, when he's chained to Bobby, shooting him will just make this whole thing so much worse. Just wait until he figure out a way to reverse this. Then by all means, kill him. I honestly couldn't care less what happens to him after we sort this out. I'm just asking you to wait a bit, that's all, for Bobby's sake."

"We don't know how long it's gonna take to find out what's the cause of this," Dean pointed out, lowering himself down to sit on the bed. Castiel was beside him in a moment, watching the discussion with his usual, rapt attention. "I don't wanna be anywhere near him for any period of time."

"Well, you're going to have to find a way to deal with it." Sam replied shortly. "Right now, we don't have a choice."

"I am.. Uncomfortable.. About being close to Crowley again." Castiel admitted into the sudden silence. His eyes had gravitated, like they always did, back to Dean. The elder Winchester was staring back at him without a hint of shame, and they both seemed to have forgotten entirely there was a third presence in the motel room with them.

"If he says a word to you, Cas, chained to Bobby or not, I'll exorcise him where he stands." Dean growled, his voice full of steely determination.

Just then, their door was unceremoniously kicked open, revealing the elder hunter. He looked, if possible, even moodier than when he had left. Sam had a horrible feeling the motel owner had made the worst mistake of his life by making an assumption about Bobby and Crowley's apparent closeness. The pinched tone of his voice certainly told Sam somebody had pissed him off in some form or another between the time they'd left and now.

"We're all heading up to the library to see what we can dig up, if anything." He ordered, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder towards the car park. "Get movin', ya idjits."

Knowing it was better not to argue especially when Bobby was already on edge and liable to snap, Sam nodded. Bobby then turned on his heel and they heard two pairs of footsteps walking away from the motel complex. Sam turned and walked straight into the bathroom, grabbed a towel and left it again. He threw the towel towards Castiel who caught it, a bemused look in his eyes.

"You're soaking. It's gonna attract a bit of attention, don't you think?" Dean answered for Sam, a small grin spreading across his face. "Nothing we can do about your clothes, though. You're not cold or anything, right?"

"No, I feel fine. I believe my clothing partially dried while we waited."

Using the arm not attached to Dean's, Castiel draped the towel over his hair and, after glancing at Dean for confirmation, began to gently dry his hair. After a few moments of watching this, Dean rolled his eyes.

"We're gonna be here for hours if you do it like that. Give it here and I'll do it for you in the damn car." He sighed, reaching forwards and pulling the towel from Castiel's grip. "You really are a baby in a trench coat without your angel mojo, you know that, Cas?"

Once again, Castiel's expression morphed into a mirror of one of Sam's bitchfaces and he frowned heavily at Dean but made no comment. Sam rolled his eyes and nodded his head towards the door. Dean was the first to get up, pulling Castiel to his feet as he did so, and the two of them left the room, Dean bunching the towel up in his hand. Sam paused only to sigh heavily, before he left too, closing and locking the door behind him.

To say Dean was in a bad mood by the time they got back to the motel room later that evening was a massive understatement.

* * *

><p>Despite his best efforts to hide the towel on their way to the car, Crowley spotted it in his hand as he was sliding into the back seat of their car. He then proceeded to make several suggestive comments, even nudging Sam to tell him in very blunt terms that even though they were considerate enough to lay a towel on the back seats, he still considered it inappropriate that they'd even consider doing <em>that<em> when Sam was driving.

Sam had nearly swung for the demon for that himself, but he was beaten by Dean screaming bloody murder and threatening to stab Crowley right there in the car park. Which of course, attracted a _lot_ of unwanted attention. Sam had practically shoved Dean and Castiel into the back of the car, climbed into the driver's seat and sped away from the building before Crowley could say anything else.

That hadn't stopped him doing it all day at the library, though. After several straight hours of doing his best not to rise to Crowley's taunts, Dean was visibly trembling, his fingers curled around a book much tighter than they normally would have been, his jaw locked and an icy fire blazing in his eyes. He looked downright murderous, and everyone else in the library was wisely giving their table a wide berth. Castiel read silently beside Dean, Crowley's comments going in one ear and out the other, but Sam spotted his hands clenching tighter around the book covers every time Dean tensed a little more. It was finally Bobby who put a stop to the whole thing by simply getting up and leaving; Crowley had no choice but to leave too.

After that, the Winchesters and Castiel didn't stay too long. Dean looked like he was ready to explode, so Sam got to work replacing all of their books and then they left for the motel, too. All the way back, Dean was snarling threats under his breath; telling Sam and Castiel in gory detail what he'd like to do to make sure Crowley's death was excruciating. As they pulled into the complex again, he promised to shoot Crowley where he stood if he was in their room waiting for them, chained to Bobby or not.

Crowley wasn't present when Sam opened the door.

What they found was much, much worse. Sam made a choked noise of disgust in the back of his throat as he saw it.

Hanging in every spare inch on the ceiling were pink and red frilly streamers. Paper hearts coloured the brightest shade of pink Sam had ever seen hung from these and any room left on the ceiling. The walls had been plastered with hearts of every size, each framed with a frilly crimped border, each bearing the word 'Destiel'. As Sam entered, he had to wade through a sea of the same heart-shaped confetti he'd spied in the diner; it literally came up to his shins. Every surface was covered in hearts and arrow shaped glitter, and both beds were almost hidden underneath a covering of red rose petals.

Dean and Castiel walked in behind him, and both of them froze in their tracks too. Dean was staring at the confetti with a look of utter horror, while Castiel was observing the wall decorations with a slight tilt of his head.

"Dean, what is 'Destiel'?" He asked.

But Dean could only splutter for a moment, before he cried to nobody in particular, "This is more of a Valentine's Day _headlock_!"

Leant against the wall of the motel complex, watching the scene with an amused grin, stood a figure doused in shadow. His arms were folded over his chest, one foot pressed against the wall so that he leant backwards in a very relaxed stance. As he watched, a door slammed from further up the complex, before Bobby Singer and Crowley appeared. When they spied the state of the boy's room, Crowley actually burst out laughing, and Bobby looked as thunderstruck as Sam. The hidden man's grin widened even further.

"That's for thinking I was a Cupid. Honestly, I'm rather insulted." He spoke to himself, before he vanished into thin air without a sound.


	4. Stupid Cupid

_Stupid Cupid, you're a real mean guy_

_I'd like to clip your wings so you can't fly_

_I am in love and it's a crying shame_

_And I know that you're the one to blame_

_Hey, hey, set me free_

_Stupid Cupid, stop picking on me_

"So we're calling the Cupid. Agreed?" Dean said sharply, looking around at everyone else in the room, a mad glint in his eye. Not even Crowley seemed to want to make a witty remark, though he was still smirking.

Little under an hour ago, Dean had gone utterly ballistic in their motel room. He'd ripped up all the streamers, leaving them scattered in various sized pieces all over the motel floor. All of the hearts had been torn from the walls and shredded to tatters. Sam, in an attempt to create some order amongst the chaos, found several bin bags and shoved the rubbish into them. It took three of these full to bursting before all evidence of what Dean had christened the 'Cupid's headlock' were gone from their room. Crowley had then taken great joy in carrying the decorations over in Bobby's car to the nearest deserted field they could find, before watching his hellhound tear them up even further.

Soon after, the two of them had then returned to the motel to find Dean, Castiel and Sam waiting, and Dean had called a meeting.

"How are we gonna do that?" Sam asked, casting his mind back. "Cas needed to be an angel to trap the thing before; what's going to make it comply this time?"

"I can attempt the same summoning I used previously." Castiel suggested. "I have no guarantees that it will work, but I can try."

"Great. And we're going to do it here. Less hassle than finding some place it's flitting around. It's easier to just get it to come to us." Dean paused, waiting for anyone to argue. Nobody did. "Okay then. It's decided."

"I think Bobby and Crowley should leave, though." Sam announced. This was followed by a rather tense silence, and Sam felt four pairs of eyes swivel to stare at him. He recoiled slightly, not ready to suddenly become the focus of everyone's attention.

"Why?" Dean asked, his voice containing a steely edge.

"I just don't think a Cupid's gonna be too tempted to come see us if the King of Hell or whatever the heck you are now is sitting in the same room as us." Sam explained quickly, realising how his outburst must have sounded to the rest of them. "Might cause a fight or something, which we really do not want to deal with right now, do we?"

Crowley was nodding, looking vaguely impressed. "A Winchester making a valid point. Someone alert the media."

"Shut it Crowley." Dean snapped, his tone dripping malice.

"We'll go check out the hunt." Bobby spoke over whatever Crowley responded with, earning him a reproachful glare from the demon. "At least we'll be doing something useful."

"Alright then. Let's get this over and done with." Dean said, clapping his hands together.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, Bobby and Crowley were gone and Castiel was standing facing the far wall, his eyes closed and his spare arm extended. Dean stood beside him, a deep frown on his face. Sam was hovering nearby, not knowing if he should approach or not. He was highly sceptical of the whole Cupid notion, not to mention whether the summoning would work given that the angel actually <em>doing<em> the summoning was currently human.

It would all depend on whether the Cupid chose to show its face or not, and given Sam's previous experiences with these creatures, it would be less than willing to do so.

When Castiel began speaking those words in a foreign language, he sounded guttural, feral. And for a second, the transformation shocked the younger Winchester. There was fury in those words, and for once, Sam felt a twinge of apprehension. The voice Castiel was using as he continued to speak clearly reverberated the power his being normally possessed. This was a being that was used to being feared by this lesser creature of Heaven, and his voice clearly portrayed this notion. And then, Castiel spoke two words in clear, concise English.

"Manifest yourself."

They waited, but nothing happened. There was no fluttering of wings, no sudden burst of raucous laughter from behind them, nothing. Everything remained as it had been.

Huffing out a clearly frustrated breath, Castiel lowered his arm and had just begun to turn around when Sam felt two arms curl around his waist and hug him tight. He yelled out in surprise, which made Dean spin on his heel. The look on his face was a mixture of utter shock and fury, the latter slowly being replaced by horror as Sam felt the arms leave him.

"Come here, you!" Came a voice from somewhere behind Sam and he watched as Dean backed away, taking Castiel with him. But just like when Sam had tried to run from the last Cupid's hug, Dean suddenly found the thing right in front of him, arms behind thrown around his neck.

This Cupid was very similar to the one they had encountered before, but not the same. He highly doubted _that_ Cupid would ever willingly pay them a visit again. This one had curly blonde hair and deep brown eyes. Just like Castiel's, they were too brightly coloured to be normal; too ethereal to be ignored. He was chubby, just like the previous Cupid had been, and had a similar distaste for wearing clothes.

"Brother!" The Cupid was now calling, wrapping Castiel into his embrace.

When the angel was finally released, the Cupid took several steps back so that he could grin at each of them in turn, apparently oblivious to the death glare Dean was currently sending his way.

"What do you need, brother?" He asked, turning to Castiel, still beaming from ear to ear.

"I want some answers." Dean snarled before Castiel could even open his mouth. "I want to know why the hell you've done this to us and another hunter." He held his arm aloft to demonstrate and Castiel's was raised limply.

Sam had been expecting the Cupid to look shocked at Dean's blunt accusation, at least. Instead however, its grin simply grew even wider.

"And you think I can give them to you?"

"Well yeah, seeing as you're the one that did this to us." Dean's responses were now coming out through tightly gritted teeth. The Cupid's constant cheer was clearly starting to grate on his nerves.

The Cupid shook his head, still sporting that smile. "Afraid not. That's not my handiwork. I'm not really sure how much you know about my kind, but we don't tend to do this," He gestured to the invisible link. "Kudos to whoever did, though."

"Tell me who _could_ do it then!"

The Cupid pulled a face, and Sam was reminded of the face Gabriel had made after they had confronted him when he had trapped them in TV Land. The pursing of the lips, the slight shake of the head; it practically _screamed_ the archangel's name. Sam quickly dispelled this particular thought process though. Thinking of Gabriel, even for a moment, was excruciating. But before he could stop himself, he was back in that hotel. He was watching Lucifer push away Kali's attack as if it were nothing. He was watching as Gabriel handed Dean a DVD; the DVD that contained his final message. He was watching as Gabriel stood there before his brother, ready to fight, to give them a chance to run.

And although he had never witnessed it and contained no desire to, the mental image of Gabriel lying alone on the floor, his wings burned out into the floor filled Sam's mind, just for a moment. It was enough for his heart to clench and his stomach to churn. It was long enough for a lump to appear at the back of his throat, threatening an emotional breakdown there and then.

But he couldn't. Not now. Not after all the time he'd spent trying to get over these stupid emotions.

"I'd like to, I really would." The Cupid's response thankfully brought him back.

"So you know who did it?" Sam asked quietly, trying to cover up how he had blanked out for a moment, but his question was drowned out by Dean's yell.

"Then _tell_ me!"

"Dean, calm yourself." Castiel ordered sharply. "Do you not recall what happened the last time you lost your temper with a Cupid?"

"Punching that dick was completely justified." Dean growled, not taking his eyes off the Cupid, which was still grinning. "And punching this one will be, too."

"You would only come off worse." The Cupid laughed, and then leant his face closer to where Dean stood. "Go on, take a swing."

"Brother, stop." Castiel said, and once again, his voice had returned to the tone he had used during the summoning. His eyes had turned to steel, and Sam could almost sense his angelic power buzzing beneath his vessel's skin. The Cupid seemed to realise he was pushing too far as well, because he wisely leant away again and his smile faltered slightly. Then, surprisingly, he turned to Sam, who could have sworn there was something akin to pity in his eyes.

"In answer to your question, yes, I know who did this."

"Who?" Sam asked before Dean could butt in again. This clearly needed someone who could keep a level head and Dean wasn't the ideal person to do that even at the best of times. Even when he, Sam, was currently teetering on the edge of a breakdown, he'd learnt over the years how to hide it well and to prioritise.

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"I'm under orders."

"Orders?" Castiel asked quickly. "From who?"

"Relax brother. Not from our Father. He remains as allusive as ever. I cannot tell you who my orders come from, either. I am allowed to divulge this information, however. In order to break the bond, all you have to do is be honest."

"Be honest? What the hell does that mean?" Dean spat.

The Cupid's smile stretched infuriatingly again, much like a parent would smile when their young child fails to grasp a simple concept. "It means that you have to be _honest_, Dean."

And with that, he vanished. There were a few moments of silence, before Dean vented his frustrations in a snarl at the top of his voice. "Why is Sam the only one not being punished by this thing? I need a damn drink!"

And without any further warning, he stormed over to the door, Castiel following obediently behind him. As they passed, Sam caught sight of Castiel's face. The angel looked outright dejected. His blue eyes, usually so sparkling, had dulled substantially and they were fixed on the floor. Sam could have also sworn that he was biting his lip, as if he wanted to say something but was resisting the urge.

But before he could say a word, they were gone, the door slamming shut behind them. Heaving a sigh, Sam dropped onto his bed, having lost the energy to do anything else. And just like any other time when he had no other distractions, the memories of Gabriel came flooding back to him. Every time he was left alone, every time he lay awake at night, unable to sleep, thoughts of the arrogant archangel returned to him, taunting him. He groaned and turned over onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow. He didn't want to remember the archangel, or the pain his memory was causing.

Gabriel was dead because of him. That was the long and short of it. And that knowledge had been tearing Sam apart ever since he had realised he kind of maybe _liked_ the pocketsize archangel. But by then, it was too late to act on how he felt. By the time he'd finally woken up and _realised_, Gabriel was dead.

Maybe that was why, secretly, he liked the fact Dean and Castiel had been bound together. Maybe someone else out there could see that those two were plainly crazy about one another, and had decided to do something about it. And for that, he was grateful. Hell, if it meant the end of the constant eye-fucking, he'd be _eternally_ grateful.

He just wanted Dean to act on his feelings, to take what was sitting right in front of him, before it was too late. Dean had been distraught when Castiel had died. There was no use in denying it. Why else would he have kept the trench coat? Why else would he have cursed every creature under the sun when the coat first went missing, threatening to murder everything between him and finding it again? It was a _coat_, for God's sake. But it was because it was _Castiel's_ coat that Dean cared so much about it. It was all they had to remind themselves of the angel, apart from the handprint on Dean's upper arm and several agonising memories.

But Castiel was back now, risen from the dead. He and Dean had been granted a second chance, and didn't they know all too well that those didn't come around very often?

Sam hadn't taken his own chance when he still could have, and now he lived with the ache of wondering what might have happened if he had. He just wanted his brother to learn from his mistakes.

* * *

><p>Castiel hated bars. Ever since he had experienced intoxication for the first time, he had developed a powerful hatred of alcohol and anywhere that sold it. But if there was one thing about bars he hated more than the drinks they sold, it was the women that seemed to gravitate towards Dean like he had his own magnetic pull. They had only been sitting there for ten minutes, and already Dean had been approached by no less than three women. He had only flirted with them half-heartedly, and they had caught Castiel's furious glare before deciding to scurry off in search of other men.<p>

"C'mon Cas, drink it." Dean said, nodding towards the bottle that sat in front of the angel on the tabletop. Dean had bought it regardless of Castiel's protests, and he had yet to touch it.

"As I already told you Dean, I am not thirsty."

"You're human now, so drink it."

"I believe there are some parts of my Grace that have remained. I neither need to eat nor drink, nor sleep."

"Or you're so used to being like that, you don't know that you're actually thirsty. Try it."

Castiel shot Dean a bitchface, which made the corners of his mouth twitch, at least. Then, knowing Dean would keep stubbornly pushing at him until he caved, he picked the bottle up and took a sip from it, before replacing it on the table.

"There."

Dean smirked and rolled his eyes. "Baby in a trench coat."

Castiel was about to respond when one of the barmaids sidled up to their table, holding another beer bottle in her hand. She placed it on the wooden surface in front of Dean, her smile stretched wide. Castiel twitched when he noticed Dean's eyes doing a quick sweep of her body, lingering for much longer on her chest. Her top had been pulled down, revealing much more of her cleavage than was necessary. And she didn't seem to be in any hurry to fix this.

"I didn't order this." Dean told her, but he didn't sound annoyed by it.

"Nope, consider it a gift from me."

"You got anything else for me?" He asked, grinning.

Her smile stretched even wider. "I might have."

Castiel couldn't take it anymore. He was beyond angry, beyond furious. Had he been in full control of his angelic power, he would have been sorely tempted to smite this woman where she stood. She didn't know who she was messing with, had no idea of the power that one of the beings before her harboured. She was oblivious to the fact that she was dicing with death, gambling with her life, and she should consider herself lucky that he, Castiel, was currently human.

But what was possibly infuriating him even further was Dean's apparent forgetfulness that they had an audience.

He didn't know what made him do it; he supposed humans referred to it as gut instinct. Whatever it was that made him kick Dean under the table, he was glad he did. The resultant cry of pain from Dean made both of them turn to glare at him, but his eyes were fixed solely on the woman. His eyes were projecting invisible beams of hate and fury, and the murderous expression on his face conveyed his message clearly; '_Back off, now_'. And after stealing one last glance at Dean, she did just that, heels clacking on the floor as she hurried away.

The moment she was gone, Dean's hand seized the lapel of his trench coat, physically forcing him to face the hunter. "What. The. _Hell_?" He hissed furiously.

"Unless it has slipped your mind, Dean, she would have had to sleep with both of us." Castiel said icily. "Can you honestly say that the thought of that appeals to you?"

Dean's mind utterly froze at that question, unable to form a coherent sentence for him to come back with. And then, before he could help it, the mental image of Castiel laying beneath him swam into his brain, blue eyes sparkling like sapphires, half lidded, faint pink blush in his cheeks, neck littered with bites and bruises that were all made by Dean's mouth..

The hunter started so forcefully, the table nearly tipped right over. The abrupt movement shocked Castiel, who eyed him worriedly, all traces of anger gone. "Dean?"

At the sound of the angel's voice, Dean's cheeks turned cherry red, and he leapt to his feet without warning, nearly tipping over the table again. Castiel was yanked unceremoniously upwards too, staggering slightly at the sudden movement. Without a word, face still practically glowing, Dean turned on his heel and stormed out of the bar, dragging a very confused Castiel behind him.

Watching them go was the barmaid from before. She was standing just in front of the bar, eyes fixed on the door as it swung to, her face utterly impassive. A moment passed, before she turned around and marched into one of the far corners of the bar. She passed several tables filled with customers, her eyes fixed on one right at the back of the building. The table in question had been pushed into the corner, making it almost completely hidden from view. It served as a very good seeing point. Anyone sitting there could happily stare at the inside of the bar without being seen in return.

The waitress strode right over to this table, and the man sitting at it. He was sitting in a reclined position in his chair, a slight smirk on his face. As she drew nearer, his smirk grew.

"You did well." He said as she reached his table.

Her lips twitched upwards in a glossed smile, before she vanished on the spot.

* * *

><p>All the way back to the motel, Dean refused to say a word to Castiel. He just marched ahead of the angel, making sure that he kept out him out of his sights, not wanting a repeat of the image that had struck him at the bar. He was incredibly shocked by the whole ordeal; where the holy hell had that even <em>come<em> from? And just what was Castiel's problem anyway? He knew better than most what Dean was like; how he picked up random women whenever the mood struck him. It wasn't like Dean hadn't spotted the malicious looks the angel kept sending at the girls tonight; what _was_ that all about?

Dean had already decided to question the angel about it. But not when he kept seeing _that_ every time he glanced at Castiel's face. Just knowing that the being in question was tantalizingly close behind him was enough to keep the image resurfacing despite his best attempts to shove it down, to lock it away in a deep, dark corner of his subconscious and just forget it had ever happened.

Castiel's mind was in a state of flux. It was widely known that his grasp of human emotion was greatly limited, and he was confused as to why he had suffered so many in such quick succession. At the bar, there had been blinding fury. When Dean had first dragged him to his feet and out into the street without a word, there had been irritation and slight confusion. Now, as he was half hauled along the road, eyes fixed on the back of Dean's head, there was worry, a horrible twisting in the region of his stomach, and panic that he had done something to upset the hunter.

Dean was making it clear that something was bothering him. Castiel was just clueless as to what. His rational mind told him to analyse the details, to try and pick up something he may have discarded as irrelevant at the time. But his basic grasping of emotion coupled with how bizarre Dean Winchester was when it came to expressing them left him with pretty much nothing. All he knew was that somehow, when they had arrived at the bar, Dean had shown signs of relaxing. Their abrupt exit and his cold shoulder routine now suggested that he was tenser than he had been before they left the motel; back then he had been speaking to Castiel.

The angel hung his head slightly as he followed after Dean, making sure to keep as much of a distance between them as he could. Somehow, he had upset Dean more than he had been when they had left the motel. That had been the very last of his intentions, but that was what had happened. He had learned that, at times like this, it was best to leave Dean to come around by himself.

When they reached the motel, Sam glanced up from his bed to see Dean looking agitated and Castiel even more miserable than when they had stormed out earlier. He opened his mouth to ask what could have possibly happened, but Dean silenced him by holding up his hand.

"Don't." He ordered sharply. "Just drop it."

And with that, he flopped down onto his own bed and turned on his side so that his back faced Castiel and Sam. The angel had perched delicately on the edge of Dean's bed, but his eyes were once more fixed to the floor, as if he couldn't even _look_ at Dean. This, more than anything, set alarm bells ringing in Sam's head. He couldn't remember the last time Castiel didn't take any chance he got to watch his elder brother.

"Cas?" He whispered and the angel's gaze flicked up to meet his own. "What happened..?"

Castiel opened his mouth to reply when Dean snarled, "I can hear you, you know."

After that, Castiel simply shook his head, and turned his attention back to the floor. Sam continued to watch him for a moment, before he sighed and turned his attention back to the ceiling.

It seemed as if Dean really was going to make exactly the same mistakes he had made with Gabriel. Sam scowled as this thought entered his mind. No. That wasn't going to happen. He stole a sideways glance at the pair beside him. Castiel was now laying on the bed next to Dean, stiff as a board, eyes staring blankly straight up at the panel of ceiling above him. He had to resist the almost overwhelming temptation to launch into a rant about how childish they were being there and then, but thankfully decided at the last moment this would do more harm than good.

He was still utterly clueless as to what had caused the bonding between Castiel and Dean, or what its intentions were. But if the Cupid was insinuating what Sam believed it to be, then he was perfectly happy to help it achieve its final goal.


	5. I'd Do Anything

_This could be my one last chance to make you understand, yeah_

_I'd do anything just to hold you in my arms_

_Try to make you laugh, 'cos somehow I can't put you in the past_

_I'd do anything just to fall asleep with you_

_Would you remember me?_

'_Cos I know I won't forget you_

As soon as Sam woke up the next morning, he slid silently out of bed and booted his laptop up. The Cupid had told them that it was not responsible for the chain between Dean and Castiel, but that it knew what was in fact the cause. Sam believed the creature may have been a little more concerned about the whole ordeal if it knew their bond was being created by something dangerous. After all, one of its distant brothers was involved. As it seemed rather amused by it instead, it left Sam with only one option; the one that created the bond wasn't a threat to them. It was a comforting thought, if nothing else. But that didn't exactly help him work out what it was.

And so he awoke with a determined attitude. He was going to discover what had made these bonds. What he was going to do after that, he wasn't so certain about, but one thing at a time. He wanted to help Dean and Castiel progress their relationship, but he was utterly clueless on how he should go about it. Dean was constantly on edge and liable to snap at anyone because of his frustrations at the bond between himself and the angel. Castiel was desperate to help whenever he could, but his lack of knowledge on anything human only made many things more awkward at times. And this, coupled with Dean's already short span of patience, only left the angel feeling worthless and miserable when things went wrong. They needed help, and Sam was only too happy to provide it.

He glanced up at the two of them as he opened an internet browser. Dean was still asleep, turned on his side. He hadn't moved from that position since he'd collapsed there the previous night. Castiel too had remained in last night's position, lying flat on his back, eyes open and fixed on the ceiling, body immobile. He may have looked awake, but Sam could tell by the fact he hadn't reacted to his movement, the angel's mind was elsewhere. It was likely they wouldn't get a response from him without actually calling his name or waking Dean up. And quite frankly, if last night was anything to go on, Sam wasn't temped by the latter option at all, nor would he be any time soon.

Just as Sam was about to type something into the search bar, there was a knock at the door. Curious as to who could be visiting them so early, Sam slid out of his chair and headed to the door, picking up his handgun just in case. He peered out of the eye-hole at the top of the door and let an annoyed sigh escape his lips. Crowley was standing with his arms slung in his blazer pockets, tapping his foot impatiently on the concrete. Bobby stood beside him, and as Sam watched, he saw the older hunter roll his eyes at the demon's behaviour.

Being as quiet as possible, Sam opened the door and before either could speak, he put his finger to his lips and inclined his head towards the occupied bed. Bobby nodded in understanding. An evil look passed over Crowley's annoyed expression, but after one look from Bobby, it was gone again, replaced with his usual smug grin.

"What? I'm not allowed a little fun?" He asked, but Sam noticed he spoke a little lower than normal.

"Trust me; it's not a great idea to mess with Dean right now." Sam warned, backing into the room so that the other two could enter.

"Why?" Bobby asked, his concern obvious in his tone.

"Very bad night, I'm guessing. I don't know the details, but Dean came back from the bar in a god-awful mood."

"Did you ask angel boy?" Crowley asked, not really sounding concerned either way.

"I tried, but Dean told us both to shut up, and you both know what Cas is like with him."

"You'd think the sun shines out of Winchester's backside." Crowley said, his tone harsh.

"Wouldn't use that wording," Bobby snapped irritably, "But in a way." He sighed. "So, what happened with the Cupid?"

"Dean nearly attacked it. Again."

"I think I can safely say this comes as no surprise to anybody." Crowley muttered under his breath.

Sam decided to ignore him. "Well, it seemed to know exactly what had happened between both of you, but claimed it wasn't to blame. In fact, it said it knew who _had_ done it. But when I asked, it refused to tell me. It said it was under orders."

"Under orders to chain me to this idjit?" Bobby asked in surprise.

"And being stuck with you is a _delight_." Crowley snapped.

"Yeah, that's what it said. Cas thought it meant God at first, but the Cupid denied it. But when I asked who it meant if it wasn't God, it refused to tell me. Said it wasn't allowed to. But it said it was allowed to tell us one thing."

"Which was?" Bobby asked. Even Crowley was looking interested. Sam only wished he had something more helpful to tell them.

"It said the way Dean could release himself from Cas was that he had to be honest. I'm assuming it's the same case with the two of you."

"'Be honest'? What the hell does that mean?" Bobby asked, looking confused.

"No idea." Sam lied, shrugging his shoulders. He still had his theory about why Dean and Castiel were stuck together, but he was unsure if it was the same with Bobby and Crowley. Maybe it was because he hadn't spent as much time with them as he did with his brother and the angel, but he couldn't see the same connection there. He was certain of the reasons behind Dean and Castiel's predicament, so by definition, they were the same with Bobby and Crowley, regardless of whether or not he could see it. But he didn't feel like divulging this information just yet; it would feel ridiculous.

"So if it wasn't the Cupid, what is it?" Bobby queried, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I was about to start looking into that when you two showed up." Sam replied, nodding towards his laptop. "You're _certain_ it's not a demon?" He turned to Crowley.

"As I said before, demons have better things to do than this. Besides, I'd like to see the bastard that could do this to _me_."

"I'd suggest Lucifer, but he's still firmly locked away in the Cage." Sam said, only just managing to supress a shudder. "Cas would have told us if he wasn't. Even though he's human, I think he's got a little of his angel mojo kicking around in him," At these words he cast a glance at the angel on the bed. "I mean, he hasn't eaten or drunk a thing since he got here, and I think we can safely rule out whether or not he sleeps."

"So you think he'd sense if Lucifer was out and about again?"

"Excuse me, King of Hell here. I'd know, too." Crowley said, sounding tetchy.

"Okay, so not Cupid, not a demon and not Lucifer." Sam counted them off his fingers. "What else have we got?"

"What do _you_ think it is?" Bobby looked across at Crowley.

"If I had even the slightest inkling, I wouldn't be hanging around here making small talk. I'd be out there, finding and butchering the thing." Crowley spat.

Bobby rolled his eyes and turned back to Sam. "What about you? Any thoughts?"

Sam shrugged. "None whatsoever."

"Great. So this is a good start." Crowley's tone had turned petulant.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, Dean finally stirred and sat up, rubbing his face with his free hand. He looked rough, like he normally did when he was hung over. When he glanced over and spotted Crowley sitting at the table, he scowled heavily and groaned, pitching back onto the mattress. Beside him, for the first time in hours, Castiel moved, first by blinking and then swivelling his head to look at the human beside him. Dean caught his gaze and very deliberately looked away. Sam saw a flash of pain in the deep blue of the angel's eyes, and felt a surge of annoyance at his older brother. He shook himself, chasing it from his mind, before speaking.<p>

"Morning guys."

He only received a grunt from Dean, but Castiel sat himself up and turned to face him. "Hello, Sam."

"How you feeling?"  
>"Rough. And I need a shower.." Dean muttered, plucking at his shirt and grimacing.<p>

"Well you can take care of that while we're out." Sam replied, getting up. Bobby and Crowley were already on their feet and heading for the door. At these words, Dean's head shot up and he eyed them.

"Where are you going?"

"We're gonna look more into the haunting." Sam explained, gesturing at his clothes. Whereas he would have usually stayed in his jeans and shirt all day, he was kitted out in a smart looking suit. "We were originally just gonna send Bobby and Crowley, but.." He trailed off, shooting the demon a dark look.

"Yeah, I get it." Dean nodded. "I wouldn't trust him, either."

"We should be back in a couple of hours." Sam smiled, before walking out of the motel. Bobby followed him. Crowley paused at the door, his grip on the handle, and poked his head back in, grinning.

"What do you want?" Dean snarled, looking fiercely at the demon.

"Just wanted to point out that to take that shower, you'd have to take angel boy with you. But whatever floats your boat, darling."

"Get _out_!" Dean yelled, grabbing the TV remote that sat on his bedside table and lobbing it in the general direction of the door, his cheeks flaring.

Crowley ducked behind it, cackling. There was a dull thud as the remote collided with the door and bounced off, landing on the floor. Crowley leant back in and waved cheerily, his grin stretching all over his face. Dean growled deep in his throat, reaching for another projectile before Crowley finally left, shutting the door behind him. Dean let out an infuriated huff of air, and scowled.

"Dean?" Castiel asked, and Dean couldn't ignore the lurch of guilt stabbing in the pit of his stomach at the tentative note in the angel's voice. Despite that though, the anger at Castiel's behaviour last night and the mental image he'd been unable to get rid of since their visit to the bar were still fresh in his mind, and he felt that he wasn't ready to face the angel just yet.

Without a word, he got up and walked to the bathroom, his arm stretched out behind him as Castiel trailed after him. Dean caught a glance at the angel's face in the mirror as he leant over the sink to splash water in his face, the thought of a shower long driven from his mind. Castiel was looking straight at the floor, his blue eyes having dulled substantially, his usually impassive face the perfect picture of rejection. He looked like a kicked puppy. Once again, Dean felt the twist of guilt, this time in his chest. This was stupid. He was punishing Castiel, and what for? For not understanding human emotions and why it had been inappropriate to show signs of what almost seemed like jealousy? Or for his own overactive imagination?

Sighing, he led the way back into the motel room, being far gentler when leading Castiel this time. He was going to get changed and then he was going to apologise. Might as well get it over and done with when there was nobody to bare audience to it. But as he was reaching for a fresh shirt out of his duffel bag, he encountered a problem. How the hell was he going to get the one he was wearing off and put a new one on without ripping both? Crowley's teasing, coupled with the frustration of not being able to do the simplest tasks, the endless dead-ends with whatever was doing this to them, _and_ being hung over, sent Dean over the edge.

In a growl of rage, he threw the shirt to the floor before turning on his heel and falling backwards onto his bed. Castiel gave a faint gasp of surprise before he was forced to flip onto his back too, pulled down next to Dean. He stole a quick glance at the hunter, and immediately wished he hadn't. Dean was glaring coldly up at the ceiling, his mouth curled in a vicious looking snarl, both hands curled into fists.

Castiel looked away again, feeling something odd inside his vessel's body. It felt as if something cold was clenching at his chest whilst at the same time twisting something painfully in his gut. He didn't understand what it was or what it meant, but felt he could safely assume it was yet another human emotion he would have to come to terms with.

For the first time, Castiel regretted returning.

He hadn't expected his return to be met with joy from either of the Winchesters, far from it. Especially as he had returned, as Dean had christened him, a baby in a trench coat. And he hadn't exactly left them on the best of terms. He doubted that Dean would ever find it in himself to forgive him for what he had done. He would have been willing to leave Dean forever if that was what the hunter wished. But something powerful was keeping him tethered to Dean, and even Castiel could see that his constant presence was bothering Dean deeply.

Which left him with one logical option; Dean hadn't wanted him to come back.

At this thought, the clenching in his stomach got even worse. Ever since his arrival back in the Winchester's lives, Dean had been irritable and moody. Castiel had meant what he had said to Dean; he truly wanted to make up for what he had done. He craved Dean's forgiveness. The first thought in his mind when he became aware that life was filling him again was not of his Father. It was not of how he was back. It was of Dean, where the hunter was, and if he should seek him out. But now that he was here, he became aware of just how much his presence was troublesome for the hunter, and that was the last thing he wanted to be to Dean.

"I apologise, Dean.." He said, and was surprised at how weak his voice had gone.

Dean jolted, staring at the angel beside him as he spoke. The tone of Castiel's voice had alarmed him; the angel sounded so very weak and quiet, not at all his usual, gravelly self. He felt his initial anger ebbing away to be replaced with concern.

"What for, Cas?" He asked, eyebrows knotting together.

"For being unable to remove my presence from your side." Castiel replied, still not looking at Dean, voice still unnaturally low.

"_What_?" Dean cried, not quite able to believe what he had just heard. If it had been anyone but Castiel, who had never understood humour despite the millennia he'd spent observing humankind, Dean would have thought his head was being messed with. But this was _Cas_; the angel known for his solemn and serious nature.

So that left one choice. Castiel wasn't joking.

Dean wanted to grab the angel's shoulder and force him to stare at him. He wanted to tell Castiel all about how he had barely released his grip on that damn trench coat for the first week or so after Castiel walked out into that reservoir. He wanted to finally be honest with how the absence of the angel had been slowly tearing him apart, breaking him down gradually. He wanted to admit that every day since fishing the angel's coat from the water, he'd been hoping that he'd go to check on it and Castiel would be sitting there instead. He wanted to tell Castiel that when he had first discovered the angel had been returned to him by some crazy shift in fate, he wanted to hug him tight, tell him he was a moron but that he was forgiven, for everything.

But Dean Winchester didn't do chick-flick moments.

"Don't word it like that, Cas." He said. "Like it's a hassle for me to have you around again.."

"It must be, considering how you have been acting."

Dean _did_ reach across at that and turn the angel around to face him. "Cas, I'm just stressed out, okay? It is _nothing_ to do with you." And then, before he could stop it, the words tumbled from his mouth. "I missed you, you feathery moron."

And as Dean watched, he could have sworn that a familiar spark returned to the intense blue of the angel's eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a ghost of a smile. And despite the fact he was still hung-over, or that they were still no closer to discovering what was chaining them together, Dean couldn't help the grin that spread across his face at that.


	6. Sometimes When We Touch

_And who am I to judge you on what you say or do?_

_I'm only just beginning to see the real you_

_And sometimes when we touch, the honesty's too much_

_And I have to close my eyes and hide_

_Romance and all its strategy leaves me battling with my pride_

_But through the insecurity, some tenderness survives_

Sam was worried about what he'd find upon his return at the motel. Dean's current mood and Castiel's tendency to always say the wrong thing at the wrong time was a recipe for absolute disaster. He half expected to come back to find the room destroyed with Dean and Castiel standing in the centre of the devastation glaring daggers at one another. He was shocked therefore, to open the door to find the room as he had left it earlier, right down to his brother and the angel lying next to one another on the bed. The only thing that had changed was that Dean was no longer keeping his back to the rest of the universe.

When he walked in, Dean glanced up and Sam was relieved to see he looked a lot calmer than he had that morning. "Find anything?" He asked.

Sam grimaced, not wanting to bring Dean's mood down when it had only just picked up, but found it was either that or lie through his teeth. "Nothing about you two and Bobby and Crowley. When I asked whether there were any reports of stuff like that, the looks I got.." Sam trailed off, frowning.

To his surprise, Dean sniggered. "Can't say I'm shocked to be honest. You _were_ asking if two people randomly woke up to find they couldn't separate from one another, after all."

"Then we can safely rule out the notion that it was a Cupid." Castiel said.

Sam raised a confused eyebrow. "I'll be honest Cas, I'd ruled that out when the one we summoned told us it wasn't him."

"Did it ever cross your mind that it was lying?" Castiel asked with a slight edge to his voice. Sam hadn't meant to sound patronising, he truly hadn't, but it was evident that Castiel had heard it that way.

Sam opened his mouth and promptly closed it again. If he was utterly truthful, the idea that the Cupid had been lying hadn't entered his brain at all. He had naturally assumed that, as it was being questioned by one of its higher ranking angelic brothers, it would have been utterly truthful in its answers. But now that Castiel said it, he felt stupid for not having considered it sooner. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the grin Dean was shooting his way and instead focused on the angel sat directly beside him.

"So what makes you so certain now that what we're after isn't a Cupid?"

"Cupids enjoy spreading their spells through whole towns whilst they are visiting." Castiel explained. "It would not simply focus on four individuals, particularly ones spaced so far apart from one another. It would want to, for lack of a better word, 'infect' as many as it could in the vicinity."

"Okay well.. That's one option out. Crowley's certain it's not a demon, so I'm going to rule them out, too. And don't even get me started on how he reacted when we brought up Lucifer. So that leaves basically everything else in the goddam world." Sam sighed, and then caught the angel's suddenly steely gaze. "Sorry, Cas. Everything in the _damn_ world."

"Let's focus on what we can work with." Dean said. "What did you find out about the hunt?"

"Well, it's gonna be down to us again." Sam said. "Bobby reckons adding Crowley into that mix will only be like adding gasoline to a fire. The ghost will sense Crowley's presence and work itself up more."

"Stands to reason, I guess." Dean replied with a shrug.

"As for the hunt itself, there are rumours that the guy that owned the house before this family moved in murdered his daughter. No hard evidence to prove it, never found a murder weapon or a body. In the end, they decided she'd run away or something. But within a week or so, the guy's wife was discovered with her throat slit right the way across. See, I asked around. Apparently this guy wasn't winning any competitions for 'Father of the Year'."

"Yeah, we can relate to that." Dean muttered, slipping a dark look at Castiel, whose frown deepened.

"Yeah. Anyway, I spoke to an old neighbour. There were handfuls of rumours circulating that apparently, this guy used to beat his daughter up and his wife just stood there and watched it happen. Didn't do a damn thing to stop it. Probably the same case here. A beating goes too far, girl accidentally dies, wife helps cover it up and they spin a story about their kid doing a runner."

"But then the kid's ghost comes back for a little revenge. Can't say I blame her." Dean said, his voice savage. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. Humans are messed up."

Sam nodded his head, scowling in disgust. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Anyway, they found him the same day as his wife, throat slit just like hers. Police assumed suicide, and left it at that. The house was left derelict for months, but now this new family's moved in. Disturbed the little girl's ghost. Nothing too sinister yet, but it's only a matter of time."

"So how are we supposed to salt and burn her bones if her body was never found?"

"I did some poking around when I was there, and I think the house used to have a cellar, but the door's been covered up. So I'm thinking he buried her there and sealed the room away to hide the evidence."

"When are we leaving?" Castiel asked.

"Tonight. Might as well get this sorted as soon as we can."

* * *

><p>They'd had to wait until late at night before the family of the house finally left. Bobby had made a few well-placed calls earlier to trick the four of them out of the house for the evening, just to keep them safe. Sam was grateful; it was rare that explaining the truth to people who didn't want to hear about it ended well, even if saved their lives.<p>

It was only when their car was turning out of sight around the street corner that he nodded to Dean and they and Castiel emerged from the cover of their car. Sticking to the shadows, they slipped around the corner of the house and into the back garden.

Straight away, Dean got to work picking the lock. Sam stood at the gate, watching the street just in case, while Castiel hovered by Dean's shoulder, arm stretched out to give the hunter more ability to move, careful not to beat him around the head with the shovels he carried. Finally, they heard the scrape of the lock, and the door swung inwards with a creak. Dean straightened up, holding his shotgun tightly in his hands, ready to shoot at anything that moved. Sam gave the street one last look to make sure the family wasn't coming back, before he turned on his heel and ran to the back door.

The younger Winchester led the way into the house, his own shotgun poised and ready to fire. The kitchen was shrouded in total darkness, the objects within undistinguishable shapes in the gloom. Sam glanced around before he moved further inside the house, allowing room for Castiel and Dean to enter behind him. Moving slowly and not taking his eyes off the room he stood in, Dean reached behind him and shut the door again, encasing them in the absolute blackness.

Sam reached into his jacket pocket and grabbed his torch, flicking it on. A second beam of light shone out from behind him, coming from the torch Castiel carried. He had been offered one of their salt round shotguns but had declined. Dean had muttered something about his angelic sense of superiority, which had earned him a cold glare complete with bitchface in return.

Castiel had then slipped one of their torches into the pocket of his trench coat before he grabbed a sledgehammer and stalked around from the boot and got into the car without speaking a word. Dean seemed unable to stop himself muttering 'Baby' under his breath as he was dragged along behind the angel. Sam only had time to roll his eyes and sigh before he got in too and away they went.

Moving quickly, eyes sweeping in every direction, Sam led the way through the kitchen to the back of the room where an old, tall wooden dresser stood. He aimed his light beam at the area of wall directly behind the dresser, and could only just make out the paintwork he'd spotted that morning. On one section, the paint was slightly lighter above than below, as if had been painted at a different time.

Also, the placement of the dresser itself was rather odd. Why would such a tall, grand piece of furniture be shoved towards the back of a kitchen, unless it was to hide something? He'd asked the family that same question that morning, and they'd told him the dresser had already been placed there when they'd moved in. They were planning on moving it, but hadn't got around to it yet.

Silently, he motioned towards it, before standing himself towards one end of it. With a roll of his eyes, Dean forced his shotgun into Castiel's hands, before placing himself at the other end of the dresser. Luckily the kitchen floor was made of laminated wood otherwise shoving the huge thing would have proved more troublesome than it ended up being. Eventually they'd heaved it aside leaving only a couple of scratches marred in the flooring, and the wall behind was on full view. Sam raised his knuckle to the surface and knocked. It was solid. He moved his fist along slightly and repeated the action. The noise was the same. He moved along a little further, and a hollow sound echoed around the silence of the kitchen.

Castiel handed Sam the sledgehammer, who gripped it tightly in his hands. They knew they had to be quick; any neighbours would undoubtedly be alerted to the noises that would come with a wall being knocked through. Sam raised it above his head and froze, listening. It was unusual for them to have got this far without interference from the ghost, and so his senses were on hyper-alert. Not even when he swung the weapon into the wall and watched as the weak plaster sunk in, leaving a spider web of cracks on its surface, did they come under attack.

It only took four powerful swings for the plasterboard to crumble enough for them to step through, revealing a doorway opening into total darkness. He dropped the sledgehammer, propping it against the wall, and shone his torch beam inside. Stretching out in front of where he stood was a stone staircase which turned a little at the end. The room looked bare, covered in dirt and dust, cobwebs stringing from every surface. There was no furniture down there.

"Okay, definitely wins the creepy vote." Dean muttered, peering in over Sam's shoulder.

Sam nodded, grimacing. Tightening his grip on his gun once more and holding the torch beam directly in front of him, he bent down and walked through the hole. Clouds of dust sprung up around his boot, swirling and falling around him. Silently he crept down the stairs, eyes peeled for any signs of movement. At least down here there was nothing for the ghost to be hiding behind, just the dark shadows which were being eaten up by the two separate torch beams.

Sam jumped as he felt something touch his shoulder and whirled around, throwing up his gun. He swore when he saw Castiel staring down the barrel of the weapon, his head tilted to the side slightly, arm extended behind him as he'd moved swiftly away from Dean.

"Cas, are you _trying_ to get yourself shot?" He cried, lowering the gun.

"Why would I do that, Sam?" Castiel asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Sam had to resist the almost overwhelming temptation to palm his forehead out of sheer frustration, and instead hissed, "What are you _doing_?"

"I am drawn to a space over there," He gestured towards an area hidden completely in shadow. "I believe that may be where the girl is buried."

"Wait, your angel mojo's coming back?" Dean asked from somewhere behind Castiel; Sam couldn't see him dwarfed as he was by Castiel's shadow and the overall darkness of the room.

"Not entirely." Castiel replied thoughtfully, shifting his shoulders. "I cannot explain it. Sometimes my Grace is more accessible. Sometimes it is not. In this case, I feel drawn to that area."

"Lead the way then." Sam said, moving backwards to let the angel and his brother pass.

He followed them in the general direction Castiel had pointed in, torch and eyes flitting in all directions. This was definitely weird. The ghost hadn't even shown itself the whole time they'd been there; despite the fact they were obviously there to destroy it. He considered, with a horrible sinking feeling in his gut, that for once he had been wrong about the creature. Maybe they were hunting something else, the girl really _had_ run away and her parents had killed themselves because of it..?

He jumped when he felt Dean hit his arm.

"We got something. Cas is better than a sniffer dog."

Castiel's expression was somewhere halfway between a bitchface and his usual impassive look in the torchlight; it was almost as if he knew instinctively that he had been insulted but was unsure how or when. Sam didn't offer an explanation, just shot him a grin and took one of the shovels from his hand. Dean swapped his rifle for a shovel, and Castiel turned his back on them as they got to work, shining the torch beam all over the room.

It only took minutes before they were staring down at the hole in the ground, eyes fixed sadly on the small skeleton. Neither of them said a word. They just wanted to get this over and done with. As Sam sprinkled salt over the bones Dean started flicking his lighter.

And just about then was when all hell broke loose.

It started with Castiel yelling Dean's name, before a shot was fired. Both of them jumped and snapped their heads up. A small girl had just appeared in front of Castiel. She had long brown hair, tangled and dirty. Her eyes were dark and icy, cold beyond measure. Her skin was horribly pale and looked sunken in around her bones. She wore a long white nightdress that was patched, frayed and filthy. Her arms were covered in welts and bruises, and stretching from one side of her throat to the other, was a bloodied horizontal slit. In one of her hands, she held a knife. The knife that had killed her parents, no doubt.

Before Sam could take aim and fire, the girl lurched forward and grabbed a handful of the angel's trench coat, swinging her arm to the side. Castiel flew towards the wall, and Dean was taken with him. His lighter fell from his hands and skidded off into the darkness somewhere. Sam swore and fired a shot at the girl but she vanished long before he pulled the trigger.

"Dean!" He yelled. "Dean, you okay?"

He heard a groan from near the back of the room. "Yeah. I'm just not feeling so guilty about torching this kid, now."

"Sam! Behind you!" Castiel yelled out.

Sam whirled around but the angel's warning had come a fraction too late. The girl took a swipe at him with the blade and he only just managed to leap backwards out of the way. His heel caught on the hole however, and he toppled backwards, his gun flying out of his hand when he hit the ground. He heard Dean swear somewhere in the darkness and start to scramble to his feet, but there was no way his brother could reach him now.

And then something unexplainable happened.

Without warning, the skeleton burst into flames. The light of the fire lit up the whole room in a bright orange glow. Dean was halfway to getting to his feet, frozen in place as he watched. Beside him, Castiel was kneeling, locked in place as he watched the flames too, his utter bewilderment evident on his face. Neither Dean nor Castiel were anywhere near the bones, or the lighter which Sam could now see against the wall. A sudden, piercing scream shocked him back to his senses and he turned to see the girl's ghost burning up, smouldering into ash. As soon as she was gone, the fire was immediately extinguished.

For a moment, there was silence between them. And then Dean's voice broke it, echoing out of the darkness.

"What in the name of all things holy is going _on_ here?"


	7. Holding On

_Once again I'm falling to my knees_

_And now this feeling is spreading like a disease_

_Whenever I need you, wherever I run to_

_I know where to find you_

_It keeps me holding on_

_You keep me holding on_

They left the house pretty quickly after the incident in the cellar.

Dean swept up his lighter and the shovels, before shoving his brother and the angel towards the steps. They were up and back into the kitchen in moments, and the Winchesters shoved the dresser back in front of the hole. Castiel grabbed the sledgehammer and followed Sam and Dean as they hurried out of the back door. Nobody said a word as they jogged to the car and Sam started the engine. He didn't know about the other two but his head was spinning as he tried to summarise everything that had happened recently to try and find some connection, _any_ connection.

Dean and Castiel were joined at the wrist by some sort of invisible bond.

Bobby and Crowley were suffering the same fate.

A Cupid denied all guilt of said situations, but claimed to know what had bound both pairs together. It had also mentioned being under orders by something, but refused to say what.

At a hunt, a pile of bones burst into flames all by themselves, eradicating the presence of a ghost. But this peculiar miracle had only occurred when he, Sam, had been in danger.

It all amounted to one massive mind-fuck, one that Sam was neither emotionally or physically ready to deal with at that moment. He was exhausted, his entire body ached from the force with which he hit the floor, and he had the beginnings of one hell of a headache. In the back seat, Dean was rubbing his temple with his free hand, frowning deeply, clearly stuck with the same conundrum as Sam. Castiel was staring dead ahead, but the blank look in his eyes indicated he was deeply in thought, just like them.

When they reached the motel, all of them fell into their separate beds still without speaking a single word, all lost in their own reveries. Each had their own thoughts and points of view, but each of them kept arriving back at the same question.

Just what the hell was causing all of this..?

* * *

><p>"So let me get this straight.." Bobby muttered, raising his hands to stall the conversation. "Whatever burned those bones last night waited until Sam was in trouble?"<p>

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up." Dean said, rubbing sleep from his eye. "But it was just us and that kid in that place."

"And it's not likely she torched herself." Sam added, his chin nearly slipping from the heel of his hand as he leant on the table.

Early that morning, the Winchesters had awoken to what sounded like someone trying to bang their door down. Sam had rolled out of his bed, half asleep and bad tempered to open it, only to see an irritable-looking demon standing there. He very nearly slammed the door in Crowley's face but resisted, knowing the demon would only blow the door to smithereens if he did. And _that_ would only end up in having to deal with an earful from the demon, and the bill for the ruined door from the manager. So instead, he had backed off, letting Crowley and Bobby inside. They had all then taken seats at the table, forcing themselves to wake up and speak about the events of the previous night.

Bobby turned to Crowley, who met his gaze with an upwards flick of his eyebrow. "You think _I_ had something to do with this?"

"It's a theory." Bobby snapped angrily.

"Not guilty. I personally assumed the three of them could handle one little ghost without needing an adult to take their hands and lead the way." Crowley said, not bothering to mask the patronising tone in his voice. "Clearly though, I was wrong."

Sam noticed Dean's jaw clenching a little tighter at this, but he said nothing. For once though, Sam was having a harder time controlling his temper than his older brother. He could feel white hot, boiling anger bubbling up in the pit of his stomach, flooding around his entire body in a matter of moments. His hands curled into fists underneath the table and he scowled deeply across at Crowley, fighting hard not to reach for the nearest weapon and open fire. He supposed it was the early wake-up call, coupled with the fact that on top of everything else, they now had _another_ mystery to solve that was setting him on edge. Having so many questions with so few answers was beginning to grate on his nerves somewhat.

"Well, what about angels?" Bobby asked.

"What?" Dean's voice was a little pinched. Apparently he wasn't disguising his fury at Crowley's comment as well as Sam had thought. At this, Crowley sniggered under his breath but caught Bobby's eye and wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Angels are able to make things burst into flame," Bobby reasoned with a shrug of his shoulders as he turned back to the boys. "Is it likely that it's an angel?"

"With the exception of myself when I still remained in control of my powers, I do not believe there are any of my brothers or sisters that would have come to our aid." Castiel said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Sam tried to ignore the horrible clench in his stomach at these words, but it was difficult. It felt as if he had been sucker-punched and had all of the wind knocked out of him. The truth was, not that long ago, there would have been an archangel that would have come to help them. He'd have whined, bitched and complained the whole time, but Sam had no doubts that he would have come. But Castiel's words delivered a horrible blow to him by reminding him once again that Gabriel was gone. He took a moment to rub his eyes, just in case because he would _not_ cry here dammit, hoping that the movement would pass for one of frustration. When he looked at the group again, it appeared he was in the clear. Nobody was paying him the slightest bit of attention.

But then he met Crowley's eye. The demon's eyebrow had raised again, eyes locked on Sam. The younger Winchester bristled and glared coldly back. Crowley's mouth curled into a smirk, but he didn't say a word. Which was lucky, Sam thought, seeing as his own handgun wasn't that far away from where he sat and regardless of whether it'd have any lasting effect or not, he was itching to shoot the demon.

"And it definitely wasn't you?" Bobby continued to question Castiel, oblivious.

"My Grace remains locked within me."  
>"Anyone else getting sick of the same circular conversations here?" Dean growled irritably. "It seems like all we do nowadays is find out something more screwed up than before, but always end up back here, clueless as to what the hell it is!"<p>

"I'm with you." Sam grumbled, still glaring at Crowley. "I'm sick of this."

"Try being chained to this idjit." Bobby replied with a heavy scowl.

"I'm starting to like it." Crowley replied with a smirk and a wink at the older hunter. "I had my doubts at first, but it's rather satisfying to be kept in such close proximity to you."

Sam and Dean both performed double-takes and looked appalled, but Bobby's scowl only deepened. "Ignore him, he's been doing that to get a rise out of me. He's trying to get to you lot now."

Crowley recoiled slightly, looking stung. "I am not! I'm speaking my mind!" Then he leant towards Bobby and his grin returned, hungrier than before. "Although, speaking of getting a _rise_.."

"Anyway," Sam said abruptly, a little louder than was strictly necessary. He was thankful that his interruption had distracted them; he didn't need to witness Crowley _flirting_ with Bobby right in front of them on top of everything else. "Cas mentioned that he could sense where the girl was buried last night. So I was wondering if he felt any sort of presence in that room with us."

Castiel looked thoughtful for a moment. Beside him, Dean was shuddering, eyes closed and mouth curled into a wince. Sam didn't need to ask to know what his brother was thinking about.

"I was unaware of any such thing, although I continued to feel the increased strength of my Grace."

"So whatever this thing is, it managed to torch her from a distance?" Bobby asked.

"Looks that way." Sam replied, slouching back in his chair, his energy greatly depleted.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I am sick of getting heaped with more questions with no damn answers." Dean spoke with acid in his tone.

All around the table, everyone except Crowley nodded their approval of Dean's statement. The demon didn't say a word, but continued to watch Bobby from the corner of his eye, a slight frown on his face. For the first time in a long while, he had been telling the honest truth. He wasn't just messing with Bobby or the Winchesters, despite how fun that was. He really _was_ enjoying spending time around the older hunter. The other three, he could do without.

His frown turned into a scowl. What the heck was he thinking? He was the King of _Hell_. And here he was, infatuated with a human being. Albeit, a very interesting human being, but a mortal nonetheless.

What was _wrong_ with him?

* * *

><p>Soon after that, Sam used the excuse of fetching everyone breakfast to leave the motel room. His irritation at their severe lack of answers was bringing him close to the brink of well and truly snapping, and being cooped up in that room day in and day out really wasn't helping any. Bobby and Crowley had also gone, saying they were going to return some library books they had taken out the previous evening.<p>

This left Dean and Castiel alone, and once again, Dean was in a foul mood.

He was sick and tired of constantly running into dead-ends, and only finding more mysteries to solve once they got there. The bubble of rage had been stewing quietly inside him for a while now, but it had finally overflowed when the others had left. He was sick of being stuck in the same motel room, having it as a constant reminder of just how little progress they were making, almost mocking. He couldn't stand not being able to go out and drink whenever the hell he wanted, or indulge himself with the women in the local bars.

And having Crowley constantly nearby was slowly driving him crazy. The only demon he had wanted to kill more than the King of Hell had been Azazel, and to have that hanging around all the time and being unable to do a damn thing about it was only making it worse. It had been Crowley who had subjected them to running around for him, doing his dirty work not that long ago. Crowley had been the one to talk Castiel into using Purgatory. It had been Crowley that had allowed the angel to fall so far. Granted, Dean should have stepped in and stopped it, but he'd take his fury at his own actions and direct it all on Crowley. That didn't get rid of the aching guilt, but it helped somewhat.

"Dean?" Castiel asked tentatively.

The hunter had got to his feet the moment they had been left alone and turned away from the angel. He was trying to calm himself down, and seeing Castiel's face just brought everything back; the fury at Crowley, at himself, and the heart-wrenching, gut-crushing guilt. He had closed his eyes so that he couldn't see the motel room, and tried to visualise himself being somewhere else. It wasn't working though, because Castiel was still speaking.

"Dean, is something wrong?"

_Shut up, shut up, shut up!_ Dean chanted in his head, willing the angel to somehow read his thoughts.

"Dean..?"

The hunter gave an almost feral growl and whirled around, throwing his arms wide ready for the cry of 'What?' that he had intended to yell at the angel. But he never got the chance to form a coherent thought, let alone make his mouth work. The momentum he had spun at, combined with the sudden, violent sweep of his arm had sent Castiel's arm lurching forwards, taking the rest of his body with it. His current close proximity to Dean had sent the angel careering right into Dean's chest, knocking the wind from his body, and the two fell backwards onto the floor.

Dean gasped for breath as he lay there, suddenly aware of the dull weight on him that was Castiel. Their bodies were completely pressed together; the angel's legs were entwined with his own, he could feel his breath tickling a spot on his neck and whenever he breathed, he could feel his chest hitting Castiel's. Mentally, he swore and tried to scramble out from underneath the angel, but Castiel seemed too dazed by what had happened to move.

"Dude, get _off_ me." Dean grumbled, pressing his hands to Castiel's shoulders in an attempt to push him off.

The angel placed his hands on the floor and lifted his torso.. Succeeding only in pressing their waists and everything below that point together. Dean let out a gasp at the sudden contact, and froze in place.

Which of course, was when the door opened, revealing the last person Dean would have wished to witness this.

"Oh my." Crowley smirked, eyeing the two sprawled on the floor. "We'll come back later, let you two finish up here."

"CROWLEY, SHUT YOUR FACE!" Dean bellowed at the top of his voice. "CAS, GET _OFF_ ME!"

"Must say Dean, I always thought you'd be topping. But once again, I guess I'm wrong."

"CROWLEY!"

But the demon had gone, cackling as he shut the door again. Dean scrambled backwards on the floor and sat up, bringing both of his hands to cover his face. Castiel knelt beside him, frowning slightly. He didn't understand what had just happened; all he was aware of was that he hadn't particularly disliked lying on Dean. But given how Dean had reacted, it was clear the hunter didn't feel the same way.

"I apologise, Dean." He said quietly, knowing he must have done something to irritate the hunter. Again.

Dean groaned, and when he spoke, his voice was muffled from behind his hands. "Not your fault, Cas.. Just do me a favour and leave me be for a bit."

"As you wish."

As Dean hunched himself up further, he felt a burning sensation on his face. Scowling, he refused to acknowledge it was a blush. Just like he'd refuse to admit to the sensation in the pit of his stomach that was telling him that having the angel sprawled out on top of him was actually a rather pleasant experience.

* * *

><p>A man sat at the edge of a motel bed, casually flicking through television channels with the remote. Dull soaps, confusing advertisements for new car models, and boring documentaries all flashed by him for the moment or so that they were on the screen, but he didn't pause. His thumb kept clicking away on the button, changing channel after channel. He wasn't really that interested in what was on; it was just something to pass the time while he waited.<p>

Then suddenly, the Cupid that had been summoned by the Winchesters appeared off to one side of the room. The man finally switched the set off, throwing the remote down onto the mattress and sat up. He didn't seem particularly disturbed by the fact a naked man had just popped out of thin air right in front of him. In fact, he smiled and greeted the Cupid warmly.

"How goes our little experiment?" He asked.

The Cupid smiled. "We are making progress with one pair, but the other remains as stubborn as ever."

The man threw his arms wide in exasperation. "Three guesses which two."

"Dean is too blinded by his own issues to see what they have. And Castiel is not much better." The Cupid replied with a nod. "They are going to continue that way if you remain elusive for much longer. The mystery of the whole issue is causing them substantial stress."

"But there's no fun in them knowing who I am.." He sounded like a petulant child, and then shrugged. "But I guess you're right. I mean, we've all heard about the famous Winchester angst."

"You're going to reveal yourself?"

The man sniggered, his eyes gleaming. "I've got one more idea before that. A way to go out with a bang. And I'm going to need your help."


	8. Everybody Loves Me

_Oh my, feels just like I don't try_

_Look so good I might die_

_All I know is everybody loves me_

_Head down, swaying to my own sound_

_Flashes in my face now_

_All I know is everybody loves me, everybody loves me_

When Sam returned, he immediately wished he'd stayed away. Dean was going utterly ballistic because Crowley had grabbed the younger Winchester before he could enter the room and announced, deliberately loudly, that Sam should consider knocking before bursting right in, just in case. Before Sam could ask what he was talking about, Dean threw open the door and bellowed that if Crowley came anywhere near their room again, he'd stick him in a Devil's Trap. He then slammed the door in all of their faces.

Sam wisely decided he did _not_ want to know what had transpired while he had been out, gave a very weary-looking Bobby his food and let himself into the room. Dean was lying down on his bed once again, facing away from everyone, Castiel next to him. Sam could see the tensed muscles in Dean's back and shoulders, and decided to give him plenty of space. Instead, he dropped their food at the table and took out his laptop, intending to waste the day scrolling through websites to find any tiny speck of information regarding the bonds.

Dean wasn't sure what happened. One moment he felt rage coursing through him, wave after wave, and the next his entire body felt blissfully relaxed, and before he knew it, he was drifting off to sleep. And that was when he knew something was wrong. You didn't just go from one state to the other without warning or intention, and that had certainly happened. That was his first clue. The other was that he was now standing in a completely different room to the one he had just been lying in.

"What the hell?" He cried, spinning a full three-sixty and taking in his surroundings.

He was stood in a room that was completely devoid of any sort of furniture. The walls, floor and ceiling were all the same bland white colour, each spotlessly clean, practically gleaming. As far as he could tell, he was alone, but he knew better than to assume all was well. He was fully conscious and in control of his body, which was rare for a dream. And he knew of only one creature that could dream walk at will, or transport you somewhere else entirely.

"Whatever dick angel you are, come on out." He snarled angrily. "Nothing else has the mojo to do this, so quit the hiding act already!"

"Jeez, you're loud."

Dean whirled about when he heard the voice, and upon seeing the speaker, his temper snapped a little more. Standing towards the back of the room was the Cupid. Dean glared at it and, although he knew it would do no good, clenched his fists.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Honestly, I'd heard of just how dense you Winchesters were meant to be, but this is a whole new level." The Cupid replied, only succeeding in raising Dean's hackles more.

"What's that meant to mean?"

The Cupid heaved a weary sigh and gestured towards him with its hand. "Case in point."

Dean scowled. "What do you want?"

"I'm just here to pass on a message. I must say, it's incredibly boring watching you four dig your heels in and adamantly refuse, again and again, to accept a very simple fact."  
>"Which is?" Dean now spoke through gritted teeth. "And why have you been spying on us?"<p>

"Because I have someone to report back to. And come _on_, Dean, it's so simple! The answer's been, quite literally, staring you in face for so long now! What you've got to do is stop being so damn stubborn and accept that something about you is different!" The Cupid stopped, and rolled its eyes. "I'm not usually one for spelling things out, but in your case, I have to make an exception."

"And what's the meant to mean?"

The Cupid smiled. "Find out for yourself what the answer is, Dean."

Before he could open his mouth to ask just what _that_ was supposed to mean, he felt something grip his shoulders in a vice-like hold, before he was tugged backwards. As was his natural reflex in this situation, he struggled. But whatever was holding him was strong, unbelievably so, and Dean felt a stab of anger at his own stupidity. Cupids didn't have the power to dream walk, but angels did. And now he had been snuck up on by one of the feathery bastards, and it was dragging him who knew where.

"Let me go!" He snarled, trying to turn his head to spot his captor.

Whoever it was released him without warning, and Dean experienced a brief moment of free-fall backwards before he hit something soft and bouncy. He sat bolt upright, and started. He was back in the motel room, but something was wrong. Castiel still lay beside him with his eyes closed, but Sam was nowhere to be seen. His bed was where it had been before, but it was untouched.

"Dean?"

The hunter jumped and glanced down again at the angel. Castiel's eyes were now open, and he was staring up at Dean with his all-so-familiar head tilt. Dean rubbed his temples.

"Am I still dreaming here, Cas?"

"What?" Castiel asked, sitting himself up.

"Sammy's not here, but everything looks normal.. This is still a dream though, right? And you're not walking into my dream; I put you here myself..?"

"My Grace is still minimal Dean, so yes, this is all in your own mind."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief and got to his feet, walking out to the centre of the motel room and eyeing the ceiling with folded arms. "All right. This is hilarious. Put me back now."

Nobody answered him, although Dean didn't really expect any different. Scowling, he paced up and down, eyes still fixed at all times on the span of ceiling above his head. Again and again, he ordered the unseen forces that had placed him there, wherever he was, to take him back. But time after time, he went thoroughly ignored. On his fifth order, he finally heard another voice, but it wasn't from the Cupid or another random angel.

"Dean."

The hunter whirled about on his heel. Castiel had slid off the bed and was approaching, but that wasn't what had shocked Dean, and was continuing to render him speechless. It had been the tone of the angel's voice, and the expression on his face as he continued towards him. It had sounded seductive and inducing, completely unlike the angel's usual emotionless tone. Castiel's mouth was pulled into a smirk, and his blue eyes were glittering. It was only then that Dean noticed the angel had shrugged off his trench coat and jacket, and his shoes had been removed as well. Dean instinctively backed away a little, raising his hands.

"Woah Cas, what are you doing?" He had meant to sound edgy, but instead his tone had come out more confused than anything. Castiel's expression and tone were so similar to his drugged-up future self, it was unnerving.

"Only what you are wishing for."

"_What_? This is a joke, right..?" Dean continued to back away from the still advancing angel.

"This is _your_ dream, Dean. There are no angels walking through it now, controlling how it advances. This is all within your head. This is what you desire."

"No, no it's _not_." The hunter replied stubbornly, shaking his head. He was refusing to acknowledge the plunging of his stomach and the fact his heartbeat had sped to twice its normal rhythm at the simple change in the angel's behaviour.

"Understand this, Dean," Castiel was now well and truly invading his personal space, and Dean had backed himself right up against the wall. "You can lie to me, you can lie to everyone else, and you can even lie to yourself. But you cannot lie to your subconscious."

And before Dean could say another word, Castiel grabbed the front of his shirt, hauling him forwards with inhuman strength. He was unable to contain the muffled gasp of surprise that escaped him when his lips met Castiel's, and all he could do was stare wide-eyed at the angel. After a matter of moments, Castiel pulled away, and he was still smirking.

"You are in control, Dean. This is your dream." He whispered, before he leant forward and captured Dean in another kiss.

And dammit, Dean couldn't deny that he was enjoying it.

He felt sparks tingling all across his skin like he was some teenager who'd never been kissed before at the slightest touch from the angel. He could feel his stomach dipping but not uncomfortably so as Castiel continued to kiss him. He felt light-headed and woozy, but there was no way he could deny that he wanted so much more than the little morsel Castiel's brief kisses were giving him. Hell, he _needed_ more. He actually fucking _moaned_ when he felt Castiel nipping gently at his lip before pulling away.

"Enjoying yourself, Dean?" Castiel asked, quirking his eyebrow.

Dean smirked and curled his hand around the angel's tie, completely lost in the moment. "You call _that_ a kiss?" He asked, before pulling Castiel around using the blue garment and shoving him against the wall. "Let me show you how it's done, Cas."

"Yes Dean. Teach me." The angel purred, and holy shit, that was just about the sexiest thing Dean had ever heard.

He didn't need any more encouragement. Barely pausing for breath, he surged forwards, his entire body pressing up against Castiel's, forcing the angel completely against the wall. Their first two kisses had been short and innocent; once Dean took control that went well and truly out the window. He gently pushed the angel's mouth open and battled with Castiel for dominance while his hands began to roam elsewhere, taking up a mind of their own. He felt a slim but firm torso beneath his fingertips, bony hips that were jutting out through the angel's shirt, the dip that was his spine.

Castiel was mirroring his touches exactly, until Dean's hips bucked against his, clearly seeking some kind of friction. Castiel had gasped, not expecting it, and Dean took full advantage of that by exploring the insides of the angel's mouth. In retaliation, Castiel slid his hand under Dean's shirt, covering the print on his upper arm with it. This action sent waves of spectacular warmth coursing all over Dean's body, and dammit, it was the biggest turn-on ever. The shock made his hips buck forwards again, and he broke away from Castiel's lips with a low moan buried in the back of his throat.

"Cas.." He panted, his breathing already laboured.

"I told you Dean, teach me." Came the angel's gasped reply, and his eyes flicked to the bed and back to Dean's. The hunter nodded once and after capturing Castiel's mouth in another searing kiss, pulled him away from the wall and began to lead the angel across the room.

* * *

><p>Dean jolted awake, his entire face pillar-box red and with a certain <em>problem<em>. But there was no way to take care of it without Castiel discovering what he was doing. As the thought of the angel crept into his mind, the blush on Dean's face intensified by several shades. He hunkered his body down a little more; only too aware that he was currently lying in a bed with the angel he had just been dreaming about. How he was even supposed to _face_ Castiel after this, he didn't know. What he knew for certain though, was that nobody was _ever_ going to find out what he'd seen. That was being buried into the deepest, darkest part of his mind, crushed and hidden, never to be thought about again.

In the other bed, Sam was still searching furiously for any kind of hint, completely oblivious to what was happening with Dean. He had been sat in the same position for over two hours, eyes scanning paragraphs teaming with pointless information, irrelevant facts and pretty much a whole load of nothing. He continued, regardless, adamant that somewhere, _something_ was lurking, waiting for his cursor to appear and click.

He was currently scouring a website called 'Cupid's Misses'. Its tagline read 'For the times when that chubby dwarf missed its mark'. He didn't know why he was even _on_ it; he'd just spotted it in a search engine and something about it had caught his eye. But it had already proven to be more trouble than it was worth; he'd had to create a stupid account just to _access_ the damn page. And now he was reading a journal post about a woman who had felt she was 'chained' to her husband. He was finally hovering over the button to close the website and move on when a chat box opened in the corner of his screen.

**Trick_or_Treat says:  
><strong>Another of Cupid's missed marks, hm? Feel like sharing your story? Or you could just tell me, if you prefer? I'll be the angel on your shoulder for however long you need, to listen to your woes! :)

Sam inwardly groaned and rolled his eyes. Great. Just what he needed. Some loner on the Internet wanting to talk to him. Just because he was _on_ the website, didn't mean he needed to confess about a brutal relationship. And not because he hadn't had any, because Sam Winchester had written the damn _book_ on doomed relationships. Out of sheer boredom more than anything though, he decided to respond, trying to ignore the irony in the angel comment. It wasn't like he didn't already have one of those nearby.

**Sam says:  
><strong>No, it's way too complicated for this site.

**Trick_or_Treat says**:  
>I doubt it; we get a lot of crazy stuff on here. C'mon, it'll make you feel better, Sammy!<p>

Sam flinched at the nickname, and not only because he only allowed a handful of people to call him that. It was mainly due to who had been the last person added to that list that caused his response. Gabriel had insisted on continuously calling him 'Sammy' until Sam got sick of telling him not to, and just allowed it to slide. Frowning, Sam hurriedly typed out a reply to the stranger.

**Sam says:  
><strong>It's Sam.

**Trick_or_Treat says:  
><strong>Whatever floats your boat? I've gotta admit though, I'm curious about what's too 'complicated' for this website.. Hint, hint, _Sam_..

**Sam says:  
><strong>Just trust me on it.

**Trick_or_Treat says:  
><strong>Oh come on! I mean, it's not like you slept with a werewolf! That's just _insane_, right?

**Trick_or_Treat says:  
><strong>Or a demon! I mean, that'd just be plain crazy, wouldn't it Sammy?

**Trick_or_Treat says:  
><strong>Oh, wait! Got a better one! It's not like you drank her blood, or helped to kick-start the Apocalypse, is it? I mean, that _would_ be waaay too crazy for this site!

Sam sat there, frozen in place, staring at the laptop screen. This couldn't be happening. What the hell was going on? How did this person know so much about him, about his life? Feeling his temper prickling, he hastily typed out his reply.

**Sam says:  
><strong>What the hell are you?

**Trick_or_Treat says:  
><strong>Thought I'd lost you for a sec there! Know that diner you went to this morning to get breakfast? Go there whenever, I'll be there. Call it a date ;)

After that, the stranger's chat-box vanished. Sam sat there for a moment, feeling utterly stunned, before he made up his mind. He closed down his laptop, scribbled a note for Dean for whenever he decided to wake up, made sure the door was locked so Crowley couldn't burst in without giving Dean or Castiel any sort of warning, and set off for the diner. He knew it was foolish of him, but something in his gut was telling him that the person at the diner, whoever or _whatever_ it may be, would be able to provide some long-awaited answers. And if not, the handgun stashed in the waistband of his jeans should act as incentive.

At his quickened pace, he reached the diner within ten minutes. When he got there, he threw open the door and stared at everyone inside in turn. This didn't take him long, seeing as there were only a handful of people inside, including the woman behind the counter.

"You getting anything, hon?" She asked, watching him expectantly.

Sam felt a prickle of trepidation. What if she was whatever had been conversing with him just now, wanting him to come back to the diner so that she could attack him? It was entirely likely; his brief relationship, if you could call it that, with Ruby and the drinking of her blood was widely known amongst most demons. That and he had imprisoned the being most of them saw as their 'father' in his cage. So he wasn't exactly popular. But had he talked about Madison with anyone? Not that he could remember, and he highly doubted Dean would have gone around blabbing about it.

"Yeah, sure. Just a coffee." He replied, before sliding into one of the booths.

The woman nodded and turned her back to make his drink. As he waited, Sam's eyes scanned the rest of the diner. There was an elderly man sitting alone on one of the stools, eating what looked like a fried breakfast. Towards the back of the diner were a young couple who had a map stretched out across the table in front of them. The only other occupant in the diner was a young man sat alone at a booth not far away from him. He was reading a paper, and whatever it was he was eating was hidden behind it.

Nobody except the woman had glanced his way since he had entered. He had expected at least a look from whatever it was that had called him here, but so far, nothing. Unless whatever it was wasn't actually there yet. Or they were watching from somewhere that he couldn't see them.

When the woman brought over his coffee, Sam forced a smile onto his face and paid her. She beamed at him and left again. That was rather unnatural for anything that wished to cause him harm; a demon would have probably been unable to resist flicking the black eyes at him. But nope, nothing. Frowning, Sam sipped his coffee and continued to watch the other inhabitants of the diner from the corner of his eye.

Sudden movement to his left caught his attention, and he turned his head so quickly, a bone in his neck clicked. The man in the booth was folding up his paper and getting up from his seat. Sam tensed a little as he walked by, but the man did nothing. Didn't even glance Sam's way. The younger Winchester relaxed a little, and was about to take another sip of his coffee when the man reached the door. The moment he pulled it open, a gust of wind hit him, and carried on into the diner. Sam, who was sitting right by the door, was suddenly hit with an aroma he could pinpoint _anywhere_.

Candy floss; sugary and sweet.

Sam leapt to his feet and whirled around to stare at the door but the man had gone. He had begun to sit himself down again, when he glanced at the table the man had been sitting at. The woman had just come out to collect his plate, which had a quarter of a pancake sitting on it. She reached out with her other hand to grab a jug of what looked unmistakeably like strawberry syrup.

Sam felt like his insides had been doused in ice as the sight stirred an all too familiar ache in his chest. Abandoning his coffee on the table, he turned on his heel and hurried out of the diner himself. He glanced left and right, and just saw the man vanishing around the corner.

"Hey!" Sam called out, taking off down the street.

Either the man ignored him or he didn't hear. Whatever the reason, he didn't even hesitate. Sam broke out into a flat out sprint as he raced down the pavement and around the corner a few moments after the man had turned it. The street in front of him was deserted, except for something lying on the concrete just in front of where he stood. Cautiously, he walked forwards and frowned when he spotted the newspaper the man had been carrying just lying on the ground. Casting suspicious looks in every direction, he bent down and scooped it up.

Nothing happened when he touched it. No attack came from any direction, the paper didn't explode or anything equally ridiculous. Sam straightened up again and turned, starting to walk back the way he had come. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew for a fact there was no way the man could have reached the other end of the street before he, Sam, had come round the corner. He was also clueless as to just why he was keeping hold of the paper. He told himself again and again as he started the walk back to the motel that it was because he could use to check if there was anything else dodgy going on in the town.

It _wasn't_ because it smelt faintly of that sugary, sweet aroma he missed so badly it hurt. Not at all.

His pace was quick as he headed back to the motel. He didn't feel like hanging around outside so much anymore. In fact, what he felt like doing right now was strapping Lucifer to Alistair's rack and knifing the bastard with an angel-killing blade, over and over. His sudden wave of fury was bubbling away inside him, making his blood boil. For so long, he'd held onto his grief, slowly turning it into anger; anger at himself, at Lucifer, at Kali, at everything he could blame. Eventually, that died down to practically nothing, but it was still there, stewing away. Having so many reminders in one morning of Gabriel had brought it all back, and he was one step away from going into a frenzy.

Just as Sam reached the motel complex, he passed their car and something colourful on the door caught his eye. He froze in his tracks when he spotted a bright red lollipop stuck to the metal, the plastic wrapper glinting in the sunlight.

And just this simple sight was enough to finally drive him over the edge.

He whirled around, the paper slipping from his grasp, his expression twisted into one of animalistic fury. "Whatever you are, this is _far_ from funny! Stop screwing about with his memory!"

He heard footsteps coming from directly behind him and spun on his heel. At once, all of the fight went from him, and his posture slumped. His chest constricted painfully and his stomach tied itself up into knots. His breath caught in his throat as he struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. Standing right beside the car, fanning himself with one hand and wearing a slightly flustered expression on his face, was Gabriel.

"Ooh Sammy, you make me go all tingly when you defend my honour like that!"


	9. All The Same

**Author's Note:** Okay, so after the emotional turmoil that was 7.17, the following chapters are going to be as fluffy and lovely as I can make them to compensate. I cannot put into words how much that episode broke my heart, it's not even funny.. Anyway, enjoy!

I am overwhelmed by all of the reviews and faves this has got! I love you all like Dean loves Cas, like Sam loves Gabriel, like Gamble loves breaking our spirits! If I could, I'd come and hug each and every one of you! :D

* * *

><p><em>I don't mind<em>

_I don't care_

_As long as you're here_

_Go ahead; tell me you'll leave again_

_You'll just come back running, holding your scarred heart in hand_

_It's all the same_

_And I'll take you for who you are_

_If you take me for everything_

_Do it all over again_

_It's all the same_

The slumped state Sam had found himself in evaporated in five seconds flat.

The paper fell from his grasp as his hands flew to the back of his jeans, pulling out the weapon he had hidden there before leaving the motel. He aimed it directly at the thing in front of him, his fury reaching completely new heights. His eyes were as cold as steel, burning with a malicious fire. His mouth was curled into a ferocious-looking snarl, his teeth gritting together. The hands holding the gun were trembling slightly in his rage, but his aim would be true if he chose to shoot.

"Oh, that's charming." The creature muttered, but didn't budge an inch. "Typical Winchester logic. An old friend says hello, you point a gun in their face. No wonder you guys are loners."

"Shut your damn mouth!" He spat, his tone clearly showing he was livid. "I am gonna kill whatever the hell you are, shifter, skin-crawler, _whatever_, for daring to pose as _him_! For daring to impersonate him!"

"Oh, t_hat's_ what all this angst is over?" The thing asked, eyebrows rising, grin in place. "Sammy, I'm touched.."

"SHUT UP! Stop talking! Stop trying to sound like him!" Sam took a steadying breath, but it did nothing to calm the storm currently swelling inside him.

He was beyond angry. He wasn't sure there was a word to accurately describe just how fucking _furious_ he was. This _thing_, whatever it was, had deliberately sought him out; he was in no doubts about that. This creature had found him on that website and lured him out to the diner, simply to play with him. Ever since he'd set foot inside the building, it had been taunting him with memories of Gabriel, reminding Sam just how much he missed the puny archangel. Well, this thing had picked the _wrong_ day to screw with him. This creature, whatever it was, because it definitely _couldn't_ be Gabriel, was going to pay. Dearly.

"Credit where it's due," He snarled, keeping the gun aimed directly at the creature's forehead, "You even sound a little like him. You've got his mannerisms down pat. And you've done your homework on me. I'll give you that." His eyes turned even colder and his tone dipped in temperature too as he aimed the barrel of the gun right at the thing's forehead. "But I've got news for you. He's dead. So this getup won't work on me."

The creature smiled, and despite himself, seeing _that_ smile again made Sam's heart rocket. "You don't think I'm the real deal?"

"Not a chance. You're a demon, or something else. Either way, I'm going to kill you here and now."

"Well, if I was a demon, would I willingly drink Holy water? Come on Sammy, hit me with it. I know you Winchesters. Never leave a place without at least five ways of committing homicide within reach." It said, extending one arm to Sam.

Sam scowled and kept the gun fixed on the creature, before reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, metal flask and threw it forwards. The creature caught it, and with a grin, popped the cap.

"Cheers," It said, raising the flask to him, before downing the whole contents. When it was empty, the creature wiped its mouth and threw the flask back, flinging its arms wide as if to say 'There? Satisfied?'

Sam's brain was going at about a mile a minute, mentally crossing off any creatures that were affected by Holy water. But he didn't lower the arm holding the gun, not by an inch. Instead, he smiled mirthlessly.

"Alright, if you're really him, you won't be afraid of the bullets I'm about to put into you. After all, not even the Colt works on you, does it?"

The creature shrugged its shoulders and stood with its hands behind its back. "You do what you gotta do, bucko."

The word made Sam hesitate. All of a sudden he was back at the Mystery Spot, fixing the smug archangel to that fence, pressing a pretty much useless stake to his throat. In his mind's eye, he saw Gabriel's lips mouth the words 'Actually bucko, ya didn't'. He saw the arrogant little smirk the archangel gave them, heard the little chuckle that followed soon afterwards. He remembered how Gabriel's body had shifted when Sam pushed harder with the stake, making the little gasp of surprise. And as he stood there, holding the gun, Sam felt his stomach dip suddenly, and his breath catch in the back of his throat.

Even as he had lost himself in his reverie, the creature had stood its ground; hadn't moved at all. This struck him as slightly odd; surely it would have attacked while his guard was momentarily down? It was smiling up at him, as if it _knew_ what he had just experienced. His scowl deepened, and he pressed his finger to the trigger. But he didn't pull it. Because now, before his eyes, he was seeing the image that had haunted his nightmares for so long now. Gabriel, sprawled out on the floor of some hotel, his beautiful wings burning into the floor.

It had been Sam's fault Gabriel had died. And now he was about to shoot him.

_'No,_' A voice in his said tried to reason, '_It's not him! It's something that's made itself look like him!_'

But the likeness was too much. The thought of pulling that trigger, of shooting the creature before him when it was wearing that disguise; it was unthinkable. He couldn't bear to watch Gabriel die, even if the Gabriel he'd be seeing was some creature only posing as the archangel. The sight of it would be enough to destroy Sam completely, and he was already teetering on the edge of a full-scale breakdown. Was this the creature's plan all along..?

"What's up, kiddo? Not so confident anymore?"

But before Sam could form a response, it vanished. He turned left and right, ready to shoot if needs be, but no attack came. In fact, he heard an unmistakable thump from his right, and turned to see the creature now sitting cross-legged on the bonnet of their car. Sam focused the gun back on the creature, scowl firmly set in place. At the sight of this, the creature sighed and rolled its eyes.

"Really? We're doing _this_ again?"

"I told you to shut up."

"You also told me you were going to shoot me, didn't you?" It sighed again, and lifted its hands. "Fun though this is, and believe me it's a _riot_, but I kinda have things I need to be getting on with. So I think I'm gonna have to cut this short."

Before Sam could even begin to form a reply, the creature twitched. At first, nothing happened. And then Sam saw movement coming from its shadow. As he watched, utterly frozen in place, two shapes were forming from the shadow's back. At first, they were undistinguishable silhouettes. But as they continued on their graceful arch skywards, Sam felt a gasp escape his lips. The wings were still unfurling from where they were hidden, only their shadows visible, but they were beautiful and majestic nonetheless. Sam traced every inch of them with his eye, finally coming to a halt at where the appendages were coming from. And slowly, his gaze slid from the shadow to the real thing.

"Gabriel..?" He managed to choke, his voice having gone oddly quiet.

The other being smiled; not a smirk, but a smile. It lit up his entire face; made his amber coloured eyes appear even brighter than they were already. "Hey, Sam."

"How..?" Was all Sam managed, trying to ignore the thump of his quickened heartbeat and the churning of his stomach.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I just woke up about a week ago." Gabriel replied as he slid himself off the car.

Sam didn't even hesitate. As soon as Gabriel's feet were firmly on the floor, the gun fell from his hand and landed with a clatter on the concrete. He then surged forwards, wrapping his arms right around the archangel, holding him tightly. He rested his head on Gabriel's and inhaled; breathing in that wonderful sugary scent that came from him and him alone. The touch and feel of the archangel so close to him nearly made Sam well up there and then but he blinked the tears away, telling himself adamantly to keep it together, especially in Gabriel's presence.

After a moment's hesitation, Gabriel's arms curled around Sam's waist, holding him just as tightly. "I know I'm amazing and everything, but I wasn't expecting _this_, Sammy."

Sam breathed a quiet laugh, making Gabriel's hair dance. He didn't lessen his grip on the archangel, and he was thankful that Gabriel seemed in no hurry to move away either. Sam _needed_ this, needed to hold Gabriel this way. It was healing one of the deepest scars in his heart, and he had no intentions of moving away from the archangel's warm body any time soon.

All too soon though, Gabriel was very gently pulling himself away from Sam. The hunter let him go, because really, he was powerless to stop him. But that didn't mean he wasn't tempted to try all the same.

"Woah." Gabriel muttered with a blinding grin that made Sam's heart flutter. "What was _that_ for, Gigantor?"

Sam's first instinct was to panic. Gabriel's amber eyes were sweeping his, looking for some sort of answer there when he remained silent. He was careful to keep his mind as blank as he possibly could, knowing that the archangel was perfectly able to access his thoughts. Ignoring the rapid pumping of his heart against his chest, Sam racked his brains to find anything that sounded remotely convincing.

"It's because you sacrificed yourself for us." He eventually said, proud of how nonchalant his voice sounded, and even managed a shrug. "I mean, after that, you deserve a hug at least, right?"

"I'd say I deserve _more_ than that, but we'll get onto that later." Gabriel replied with a wink.

Sam was eternally grateful that Gabriel chose that particular moment to turn his back in order to pull the lollipop attached to the car door off. The moment the words left his lips, a flurry of images swam into Sam's mind, each of which firmly cementing his own personal place in Hell. He shook his head, his cheeks a vibrant red, trying to dispel those thoughts _right the fuck now_. It was _Gabriel_; Sam knew better than to take what sounded almost like flirtation seriously from the guy.

As the archangel turned around again, pocketing the lollipop as he did so, Sam's mind was blissfully blank once more and the blush had calmed to a gentle pink hue. Gabriel clapped his hands together and rocked back and forth on his heels, apparently unaware of what Sam had just been imagining, cocky grin back in place. The younger Winchester breathed an invisible sigh of relief at that, amazed he had somehow dodged the bullet on that one.

"So," Gabriel said, still rocking, "How are things going?"

"I guess things are going alright at the moment," Sam replied with a shrug. "Well, apart from the whole bond-" He trailed off, quirking an eyebrow. "Wait a second here.. You said you came back a week ago.."

Gabriel's eyebrows shot up, vanishing into his hair, his eyes widening. His grin vanished into an expression of curiosity, and cocked his head to the side, similarly to Castiel. He stopped rocking and instead stood frozen, still with his arms slung behind his back. It was this obvious attempt to look as innocent as he could that sent the alarm bells ringing in Sam's head.

"Gabriel, was the fact Dean and Cas and Bobby and Crowley are chained together anything to do with you?" He asked, a grin inking its way onto his face as he continued to study the archangel carefully.

The archangel gasped, placing a hand on his chest. "Sammy, I'm shocked! Do you honestly think I'd _do_ anything like that?"

Sam leant closer, still grinning, folding his arms over his chest. He didn't say a word, and didn't need to either. After a while under his scrutinising gaze, the corners of Gabriel's mouth began to twitch as he struggled to bite back a laugh. Sam didn't have as much control. He snorted, and then burst out laughing, bringing up a hand to rub his eyes.

"You total bastard.. Dean is going to _kill_ you when he finds out about this."

Gabriel allowed himself to grin after that, and shrugged. "What can I say? Everyone's gotta have a hobby. Mine just happens to be screwing around with our brothers."

"And Bobby and Crowley." Sam reminded him, folding his arms again.

"Hey, I think they'd be good together. Am I alone on that?"

"Gabriel, I really do _not_ want to think about it.." Sam muttered, still smiling. "Since when did you enjoy playing matchmaker anyhow?"

"Since I really took a _look_ at how they all interact with one another. I mean, just take a look at Dean and Castiel! Come on Sammy, it's obvious." Gabriel threw his arms wide for emphasis.

"Never said it wasn't. I think it's great, in all honesty." Sam replied, shrugging. "I mean, let's just take a look at the trench coat. Dean moved that thing from car to car for _months_. Mr. 'I don't do chick flick moments' kept that coat with him at all times, and we changed cars a _lot_. And I swear, a few days after Cas died, Dean was using it as a _pillow_."

"Exactly!"

"I don't get it, though.. How did you _do_ all of this?"

Gabriel shrugged, leaning back against the car. "Like I said, I just woke up one day with no idea why. I was all set and ready to go back to my Trickster persona, but then I spot someone lying next to me. Imagine my surprise when I look over and it's my own dear little brother. I hope one of you chuckleheads can fill me in on what happened there? Why Castiel was dead in the first place?"

"Maybe another time.." Sam muttered, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He highly doubted whether Gabriel would appreciate hearing how they had treated Castiel before his walk into the reservoir.

Gabriel shrugged. "He was really weak, which got me thinking about how I could use it to my advantage. I remembered how he interacted with Deano, how clearly _smitten_ he was. Still is, from what I've seen. So, I decided to make the best of a bad situation."

"_You_ bound his Grace?"

"Yep. Had to steal that precious coat, too. I guess I just wanted to see how Dean would react. And I must say, he didn't disappoint." The archangel sniggered, eyes glinting mischievously. "After that, I just waited until you were out, zapped myself and Castiel over, joined them together and left again. Chose to bind your good hunter friend and Crowley together too, just for a laugh. Managed to convince a Cupid to act on my behalf, and helped me trash your room, which is possibly the most fun I've had in a _long_ time. It reported everything back to me."

"And you've been watching us ever since?" Sam asked, when a thought occurred to him. "So, was it you that saved me?"

For the first time, Gabriel's eyes darkened slightly. "Yeah. Nothing's killing you, kiddo. Not while I'm back and breathing, anyway."

Sam felt his heartbeat quicken again as he tried desperately not to read too much into that. "Good to know."

Gabriel grinned, and his eyes returned to their original warmth. He then snapped his fingers, and the paper that Sam had dropped leapt into his shocked hands. "I'll be watching, Sammy." The archangel said, starting to back away out of the car park. "Do me a favour and refrain from spilling the beans to Dean, okay? It's way too fun this way."

Sam grinned. "Sure."

He turned to glance over his shoulder at the motel, and when he looked back, he was watching thin air. With a gentle sigh and still wielding a blinding grin, Sam turned on his heel and headed for his room, feeling happier than he had in days. Not even the tension hanging in the air of the motel room like a wet blanket could stifle his feelings of giddy happiness, nor the look of pure venom Dean was shooting at everything that moved. Castiel twitched when he walked in and shot him a confused expression, but didn't speak. Sam chose to ignore this and simply slid into his bed after moving his laptop aside, grinning widely.

Meanwhile, stood on the roof of a nearby building, watching as the younger Winchester vanished into the room, was Gabriel. His lips were curled into a slight frown, his eyebrows knotting.

"You're a hypocrite, you know."

Gabriel didn't even flinch as the voice spoke from behind him. He'd felt the Cupid's presence before it had even landed.

"What?" He answered without turning around.

"I called you a hypocrite. You say you did all of this because those four won't admit how they feel about one another. But there's someone _you're_ not being completely honest with."

"You're wrong there." He said, his tone steely with warning, but it continued anyway.

"Brother, do not doubt my sight. I was made for the purposes of bringing together those whose destinies are made to be spent together. I can see clearer than you can." The Cupid replied. "And I see within you the same attributes I see within Castiel when he looks upon Dean Winchester. Logically therefore, my conclusions must be the same for you as they are for him. In simple terms, brother, you are in love also."


	10. Take My Hand

_Close your eyes and please don't let me go_

_Don't, don't, don't, don't let me go now_

_Close your eyes, don't let me let you go, don't, don't, don't_

_Take my hand tonight_

_Let's not think about tomorrow_

_Take my hand tonight_

_We will find some place to go_

'_Cos our hearts are locked forever_

_And our love will never die_

_Take my hand tonight, one last time_

"What are you so happy about?" Were the first words out of Dean's mouth. Castiel was still watching Sam suspiciously, his lips curled into a slight frown, blue eyes intense.

Sam shrugged, realising how out-of-place his sudden optimism really was. "I'm just trying to have a more positive outlook on this whole thing." He replied, trying to avoid eye contact with Castiel. "I mean, we've got to have a change of luck sometime, right?"

"And when's the last time something like that happened to us?" Dean asked coldly.

Sam resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. "I'm just trying. Cas, why are you watching me?" He finally turned his attention to Castiel, who was sat bolt upright on the edge of Dean's bed, blue eyes shining.

The angel didn't avert his gaze any. In fact, he simply intensified his stare. "Something is different about you." He said slowly. Sam twitched at these words, a sliver of dread settling itself in his chest. _Castiel could feel Gabriel_.

"Different? How?" Dean asked sharply, getting ready to spring to his feet.

"Calm yourself, Dean. Sam remains himself. I am simply observing that something about his person is different from before. He is more at peace, and he no longer appears to be suffering an inner turmoil."

Dean opened his mouth to question the angel further, when Castiel turned around to meet his eyes. Dean instantly froze all movement, and Sam could have sworn his cheeks ignited with a light pink blush. For some reason, his eyes then flicked to the bed they were sat on and back to Castiel's face in a split second, and he turned away from the two of them altogether. Sam's eyebrows furrowed, his grin turning into a confused frown. Castiel looked equally confused, and as he turned away from the elder Winchester, Sam saw his blue eyes dimming sadly.

The incident, whatever the hell it was, had driven Sam's peculiar change in mood from both of their minds, though. The younger hunter resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief and cast his eyes towards the ceiling as he lay back on his bed, opening the newspaper. '_Gabriel, you've got to do something about this before I kill them both.._' He thought to himself, hoping the archangel could hear him, wherever he was.

* * *

><p>It took a full hour for Dean to cool down from whatever rage he'd worked himself into this time. What hadn't helped was Crowley bursting in ten minutes after Sam got back, spotted the distance between and posture of Dean and Castiel's sitting positions and announced loudly that Sam was welcome to come back with them if the lovers were having a spat. Dean had finally snapped, grabbed the nearest gun and opened fire. This earned him nothing but a rant courtesy of Bobby, a pissed off and very frightened manager and a smug demon announcing that trying to shoot him wouldn't help Dean's sexual tension any.<p>

After that, Sam passed the time by reading the paper he'd picked up from Gabriel. He found that every time he turned a page, he was hit with the very familiar scent of the archangel, and it calmed his temper somewhat. At first, he had used it to hide his face and subtly sniff the pages, but after a while he actually started to read the articles, just to try and take his mind off things.

And that was how he stumbled onto another possible hunt.

The paper was a local one, full of pretty boring stories which failed to capture his attention at all. It was only about halfway through when he spotted the article. A black and white photograph of a young woman had been posted next to a block of text. She had long, curly dark hair that hung around her shoulders. She was very pretty, with a wide, bright smile and gleaming eyes. The article announced that she was a student at the local college, and had vanished from her bedroom after coming home late one evening last week.

But that wasn't what caught Sam's attention. Found in her room was a substance professionals had claimed to be sulphur, even if they couldn't begin to explain how it had got there. She had last been spotted by an unnamed eye-witness who had been walking with her boyfriend past an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the town they were in. The witness claimed the woman had appeared as if from nowhere, and launched into a violent attack without any provocation whatsoever, leaving her boyfriend in hospital and her traumatised. Friends of the missing woman had been interviewed, and every single one of them had described her as hating viciousness of any kind.

"Dean, you gotta see this." Sam said, ripping the page from the paper as carefully as he could.

"What is it?" His brother replied, still sounding mildly irritated.

Sam passed the clipping to Dean, who began to read it with his scowl still on his face. "Sounds like a demonic possession to me." The younger Winchester continued as he watched his brother make his way through the article. "It's just something to take our minds off the whole bonding thing again."

Dean was nodding. "Wouldn't hurt to check it out."

"What about you, Cas? Can you feel a demonic presence?"

"I have felt something, although I lack enough of my Grace to be able to fully determine what it is. It is entirely possible that it is a demon, though."

"And it's definitely not Crowley you can sense?" Dean asked.

Castiel tipped his head back and glared coldly at him. "Do not patronise me."

Sam felt a wave of cold slip down his spine at the angel's tone, barely supressing a shudder. Dean seemed to forget a lot of the time just what Castiel was when he was at his full power. He failed to take into account that the being he so often mocked could drop him back into Hell as easy as breathing. And, most of the time, Castiel ignored the jibes and jabs. But there were times when Dean pushed too far, ruffled the angel's feathers too much, and Castiel would remind the both of them just exactly what he was capable of with a simple statement.

And it seemed that their predicament coupled with Dean's infuriating mood swings were finally grating on the angel's last nerve.

"Cas, he wasn't." Sam said quickly, and steely blue eyes turned to face him instead. "I know we're all frustrated about this, but snapping at one another's not going to get us anywhere. Are you sure it's a demon?"

"I am not certain, no." Castiel's voice still sounded pinched, but the icy feel to his eyes was dissipating. "As I said, it is a very probable possibility."

"I hate to say it, but I think we're going to have to ask Crowley." Sam said with an irritated sigh. "Just to be sure."

"Hell no." Dean spoke up for the first time since being fixed with Castiel's fuming glare. "No way."

"What other choice do we have, Dean?" Sam asked, throwing his arms wide. "We've got a lead, and we've got a way to prove it. Just suck it up and let's go ask him for his opinion!"

It took a further ten minutes of bickering, but eventually, the three of them were standing in front of Bobby and Crowley's room. Darkness had just started to fall, inking the world around them in the crimson glow of the setting sun. Dean was standing as far away from Castiel as he could, arms folded over his chest, scowl firmly set in place. In the end Castiel, who seemed to have finally grown tired with Dean's stubbornness, had simply got to his feet and started walking towards their door. Dean had fought and struggled but ultimately, against an angel, even one with dimmed power, he was powerless. So there he was, sulking like a child, but there.

Sam raised his hand and knocked once on the door, showing Bobby and Crowley the respect for privacy the demon never showed them in return. They heard movement from inside relatively quickly, a thump and then a yell of 'Idjit', before the door opened. Bobby looked sullen and angry, his scowl mirroring Dean's almost perfectly. Crowley stood behind him and greeted them with a smirk, leaning forward to rest his chin on Bobby's shoulder.

"Take it off or I'll break it off." Bobby snarled, shifting his gaze sideways to give the demon the best glare he was able.

"You say that, but you weren't complaining last night."

"Crowley!" Bobby and Dean yelled in unison.

"What?" He replied, grinning in his usual wicked way.

"Just shut _up_." Bobby snarled.

"I don't hear you denying it, darling."

"CROWLEY!"

Sam sighed irritably, wishing they had another option other than this. "Crowley, we came to ask you something."

The demon looked mildly surprised. He backed away, allowing them to enter. Dean did, but only because Castiel gave his own arm a tug forwards, forcing the hunter to move. They then stood directly next to the door, which Sam felt was a wise move. Dean already looked ready to explode, so placing him near a hasty exit was favourable.

"We just want to know if you can feel a demonic presence here." Sam said.

"Why? You boys think you got a case?" Bobby asked.

"We may do. We are coming here for confirmation." Castiel replied, looking even less pleased to be there than Dean did.

"And you're asking me? Angel boy still broken, then?"

Castiel's glare returned with full force, his eyes sparking with fury. Sam could almost see the wings arching high above him, could practically _feel_ the hidden power coursing and thudding around the angel's body. It seemed Crowley could, too. But rather than looking spooked like Sam, he grinned. Dean sensed the danger, or he saw the way Castiel was tensing, because the next moment he was acting as a human shield between the two of them, looking downright murderous.

"Answer Sam." He spat. "Or I _will_ kill you, Crowley. I'm sick of putting up with you."

"And as you can see, that information fills me with dread and apprehension." Crowley shot back, completely deadpan.

"Just tell them what they want to know." Bobby grunted, now glaring at the demon too.

"_Fine_." Crowley heaved a great sigh and rolled his eyes. "Yes, there's a demon here. Been here since we have." He looked around at each face in turn and saw scepticism in each one. "I know you don't hold my kind's words in high regard, but I swear that's the truth. No _tricks_."

Sam flinched as Crowley spoke that last word, because the demon turned to face him very deliberately as he said it. And in that smug facial expression that was screaming 'Patronising' at him, Sam knew. Crowley had known all along what had been causing them so much trouble, had _known_ who was behind their bonding.

Well, that just set off a whole series of questions in Sam's head. Questions like, if Crowley knew, why hadn't he said anything? Or, more importantly, why hadn't he gone and found Gabriel to get him to remove the bonds? Unless he really _was_ enjoying being around Bobby..

"Really? A demon telling us the honest truth?" Dean was asking, completely oblivious to Sam's mental bombshell.

Crowley pressed his hand over his chest, turning away from Sam. "If I had a heart, I'd swear on it. Well, you know it inside-out, angel boy. What does the gospel according to Winchester have to say about a demon telling the truth?"

Dean ignored him, but instinctively stepped further in front of Castiel. "Where's the demon now?"

"Taking up residence in a warehouse on the outskirts of this charming little town." Crowley replied with a shrug. "Now, are you three _sure_ you can handle this one? Don't need adult surveillance this time around?"

"Shut your face, Crowley." Dean spat, already opening the door. "Sam, come on. We're going."

"Don't worry, Winchester." Crowley called after Sam as he started heading to the door himself. "I'm sure if something nasty goes for you again, some sort of _divine intervention_ will protect you."

* * *

><p>It took about fifteen minutes for them to drive out to the warehouse. The whole time, nobody spoke.<p>

Castiel was still fuming about Crowley had said, but his anger was beginning to ebb away to be replaced with confusion and curiosity. Dean had been avoiding him more than ever; the hunter couldn't even hold his gaze anymore. And once again, Castiel was utterly clueless as to what had done wrong. But despite all of that, the moment he had felt threatened by the demon, Dean had come to his aid, adopting the protective stance he had seen Dean take so many times around Sam. Dean's sudden change of heart had left Castiel feeling more confused than before, especially when Dean was _still_ avoiding him afterwards. Human emotions were difficult for him at the best of times, but Dean Winchester's were even more complicated.

Dean was trying desperately hard not to think about the dream, and the fact the angel in it was sitting inches apart from him constantly. But it seemed the more he tried not to think about it, the harder it tried to swim to the front of his subconscious. No matter how much he pushed it down, it refused to go away. And what only made it worse, was that deep down, he knew that fact didn't bother him in the slightest. In fact, he rather enjoyed remembering the way Castiel's body had curled, the bright blue of those eyes, the sounds of the angel gasping and moaning his name, over and over. As he had lay there in his bed trying to cool the fire raging in his lower abdomen, every inch and fibre of his body had wanted to roll over and press himself to the angel. He stole a side-glance at the angel from his space in the backseat, and felt his heartbeat race. He turned away again, covering his face with his hand. What the hell was happening to him..?

Sam was at the wheel, but he wasn't concentrating on the road. His brain was lost in the mystery that was Crowley's behaviour. Of _course_ the King of Hell had sensed Gabriel's presence the moment he entered the town. After all, Gabriel hadn't bound his powers in any way like he had Castiel. Sam inwardly groaned at his own stupidity. They should have thought of asking Crowley before all of this, although there was no guarantee that the demon would have given them a straight answer. And if Crowley had known all along, what was with the amateur dramatics when he and Bobby had first shown up? Or had he genuinely not known back then? Had Gabriel been masking his presence, and Crowley only realised once he had arrived and wasted a few days in the town? If Gabriel was talented at one thing, it was hiding himself away, so that was entirely possible. It was all mounting up to one giant mindfuck once again, and he was really starting to lose patience with it.

* * *

><p>Sam stopped the car on the road outside the warehouse. The building was situated behind a chain linked fence which bore signs indicating the building site was closed and off limits to the public. The road was lit by only a handful of streetlamps, each casting a weak orange circle of light at the area directly at their feet. Opposite to the warehouse was nothing but fields, stretching as far as Sam could see in the dim light. The building itself looked old and worn down, showing just how long it had been left to ruin. Even from where he stood, he could see broken window panes and boarded up doors, some of which had been kicked in.<p>

"Can you say cliché?" Dean asked as he studied the building beside Sam.

"What?"

"Never mind, Cas." Sam cut across whatever sarcastic comment Dean had had lined up, earning him a reproachful glare. He clicked his torch on and shone the beam at a gap in the fencing. "There's our way in."

Dean nodded, clicking his torch on and crossing the road, pulling his gun from his jacket pocket. "Bitch attacked those two when they were walking past. No way of knowing if she's inside or waiting for a chance to jump us out here."

"Fair point." Sam agreed, pulling out Ruby's knife. He had his gun stashed in the back of his jeans as usual, just in case.

The inside of the warehouse was dark and cold. Dean led the way down a narrow corridor paved in stone, his and Sam's torch beams the only lights in the otherwise pitch black place. The walls, from what they could see in the fleeting glimpses the torch beams provided, were filthy, the floor littered with debris and rubbish left over from whenever the place was abandoned. At the end of the passage was a set of double doors, metal like the ones they had used to enter, and half covered in rust. Dean pushed his way through, gun and torch beam first.

They found themselves in a spacious room. There were desks and tables shoved roughly against one wall, most of which had been broken. A huge, glass panel window was set into the wall on their right, allowing moonlight to stream in through it. This made sight a little easier; the only points hidden from view were the far sides, whilst the centre of the room was lit with a silver glow. The ceiling high above them was lost in darkness, any electrical lights undistinguishable shapes.

Dean didn't shut his torch off as he entered the massive room, using it to peer into the dark shadows, just in case the demon was lurking somewhere nearby. Castiel followed, fully alert for any signs of movement or demonic activity. Sam brought up the rear, double checking every place Dean had as they made their slow progress across the room. They had reached the halfway point across when they heard it.

"You two really _are_ lucky to have your looks."

At the sound of the voice, Sam, Dean, and, by force, Castiel all whirled around. The angel staggered slightly, not having been expecting Dean to swerve so suddenly, but regained his composure relatively quickly. Stepping out of the dim shadows just behind where they had been standing was a woman, but all three of them knew better than to assume she was such. She wore a deep red vest top with dark jeans and pointed, heeled boots. Deep brown curly hair hung over her shoulders, dark green eyes glinting in their torchlight. As they watched, the green flicked momentarily to jet black.

Neither Sam nor Dean had enough time to blink, let alone reach for the triggers on their weapons before she was on them. With minimal effort, she grabbed a fistful of Sam's shirt and launched him sideways. He flew off his feet and sailed through the air, landing with a painful sounding thump on the smooth floor. He slid along a short distance before the sound of him hitting the wall reached the others.

The demon smiled as she turned back to Dean and Castiel. Before she could take a step closer though, Dean blinked as he found his path blocked by a sudden flash of tan. Castiel had stepped in front of him with a guard-like posture, hiding Dean from view. The demon's eyes slid to him instead, and her smile widened, before she vanished altogether.

"Sammy!" Dean called out as his eyes swept left and right, trying to catch sight of her in the shadows with his torch beam again. "You okay?"

"Yeah.." Came the strained reply, echoing out of the gloom. "Yeah, I'm fine.."

"Your power is minimal, angel." A cold voice snapped from behind Dean. "In fact, I'd say you were human."

The hunter turned on his heel and fired his gun, nearly overbalancing Castiel once again. The shot hit nothing but thin air however, as the demon was long gone from where she had just been standing.

"I'd start worrying about yourself, Dean."

And then suddenly, Dean saw movement right beside Castiel in the flash of his torch. A gleam of cold silver. She was right there, directly next to him, gleaming knife in her grasp. Dean saw the flick of silver slicing its way through the air towards Castiel, who would be unable to move out of the way in time. A Castiel who had none of his angelic power; who was essentially human. A Castiel who was vulnerable. A Castiel who was _in danger_.

Dean wasn't sure what made him do it. The concept of a basically human Castiel getting stabbed was an unthinkable option. Hell, it _wasn't_ an option. It wasn't going to happen, not while he was there anyway. He considered shooting her, but the blade was moving too fast towards the angel's body for him to aim and pull the trigger before the knife sliced its way through Castiel.

So, before his higher brain functions could come up with a better solution, he yanked his arm backwards. Castiel stumbled and actually tripped over, nearly tugging Dean down with him. He only had time to lift his arm to shield his face before –

"DEAN!" The twin shouts of his name filled the warehouse as the demon's knife plunged into his arm.

The demon scowled, retracting her blade and backing off a few paces. Castiel was on his feet in seconds, eyes fixed on Dean's bleeding arm. He was doing his best to apply pressure to the wound, but doing this without restricting Castiel's movements enough to defend both of them was basically impossible. In the end, he kept his arm bent across his chest and switched his gun to his good hand. He could feel his own warm blood seeping through the fabric of his shirt and onto his chest, but he did his best to ignore the sticky substance.

Castiel's face was now turned towards the demon, and it was thunderous; beyond all measurable anger. Dean had only ever seen _that_ expression on Castiel's face once before, and that was when he'd been on the verge of saying yes to Michael. He'd suffered the wrath of the angel then, but knew deep down that Castiel could have done so much worse. A being that usually possessed so much power could destroy him in a moment, and Castiel's expression was clearly conveying this message to the demon that stood before them.

If Dean had been in her place, he'd have turned and physically crawled his way back into Hell, knowing what awaited him there was preferable to the agonies the angel would make him suffer. He certainly wouldn't have stood there, smiling broadly. At that, the angel's grip on Dean tightened, and his expression turned, if that was even possible, even more furious as he let out a growl in the base of his throat. Dean stared at him, utterly shocked at the reaction.

An angel of the Lord was showing animalistic rage, simply because he'd been hurt.

Before either of them could move another muscle though, the demon threw her arm up towards them. Both Dean and Castiel were launched off their feet, flying backwards into the wall, slamming against the solid brickwork. Dean let out a grunt of pain as his arm collided with his chest. He began to struggle, but knew it was no use. It felt as if an invisible wall was being pressed to his chest, keeping him firmly in place. Beside him, Castiel was struggling even harder than he was, but to no avail. They were well and truly trapped.

All of a sudden, they heard hurried footsteps before Sam appeared out of the shadows, Ruby's knife in his hand. The demon turned away from Dean and Castiel to watch him, an amused look on her face.

"Let them go." He snarled.

"Because you're pointing that toothpick at me? Get real, Winchester."

Without hesitating another moment, Sam whipped the gun out from his jeans and barely pausing, opened fire. The demon hesitated, obviously surprised, but then she was gone again. Sam's bullets hit the far wall of the room with dull _thunks_, but no cry of pain from the demon. Sam ceased fire, bringing the gun up but keeping his finger on the trigger, peering left and right as he made his way further out of the shadows.

"Sammy, behind you!"

Sam whirled around at Dean's shout and only just had time to lift Ruby's knife to block the attack. There was the horrible screech of steel on steel, before Sam pushed all of his body weight forwards, forcing her away. She bobbed back on the balls of her feet before launching forwards again. Sam was only able to keep track of her quick movements, blocking her attacks. There was no time for him to try and fire at her again. Dean was shouting encouragement from the wall as he continued to try and free himself.

The demon's eyes flicked to Dean and back to Sam, before she grinned. She brought her blade away from his once again, but rather than spring back straight away into another attack as Sam had expected, she slashed the knife through thin air. Sam didn't have long to wonder about her motives because next moment, some of Dean's blood had flown off the metal, hitting him straight in the face. He yelled out, moving backwards, trying to rub the sticky red substance from his eyes, and he could hear cackling.

"Sam, she's vanished!"

There wasn't much Sam could do with that information, though. Next moment, he felt something hit him very hard on the back of his head, and his knees buckled. The pain roaring across his temples partially drowned out Dean screaming his name, but the next blow in exactly the same spot forced consciousness out of him. He slumped to the floor, the knife and gun falling from his hands.

"SAM!" Dean yelled as the demon bent down and slung Sam's unconscious body over her shoulder as if he weighed no more than a child. "Let go of him, you bitch!"

"No can do. And don't worry, Dean. When I'm through playing with Sam, it's your turn." She replied, grinning hungrily at him.

"You will lay no finger upon this human." Castiel spat. His voice was thudding with the suppressed power his being usually contained. Once again, Dean was shocked into momentary silence at Castiel's display of protection towards him, and he could only stare at the angel. Castiel's eyes were ice cold and merciless, glaring at the demon. If looks could kill, she'd have been deeper than six feet under, encased in concrete.

She turned to face Castiel instead, and her smile widened. "Or maybe I'll have some fun with the angel first. I've always wanted to torture one of your kind. I'm thinking along the lines of using holy oil to burn you to a crisp, starting with your wings."

This, for reasons Dean refused to acknowledge, made his blood boil. Just the _thought_ of the demon harming one hair on Castiel's head made an uncontrollable fury bubble up inside him, and he struggled even harder against the invisible weight keeping him against the wall.

"Like Hell you will!" He roared.

It was Castiel's turn to stare at Dean, utterly perplexed. The hunter's mouth was curled into a ferocious looking snarl, and his green eyes were ice-cold, practically shooting beams of hate and fury at the demon before them. Dean's sudden urge to protect him had stunned the angel into silent contemplation, and caused something deep within him to stir. He was unsure of what it was; utterly flummoxed, actually, but the longer he stared at Dean, the stronger it was becoming.

"Guess I'll have to see how I feel." The demon's smug voice brought Castiel crashing out of his reverie and back to the present. "No matter, though. It's Sammy first!"

And with that, both she and Sam vanished.

* * *

><p>When Sam regained consciousness, his first instinct was to rub the back of his head where he had been struck. A dull thumping was still thudding around his body from the spot, and the whole span of his head felt like it was on fire. He was pretty sure he could feel dried blood on the base of his neck, too. However, when he tried to lift his arm to check, he found he wasn't able to.<p>

Well, that _certainly_ woke him up from his groggy state.

His eyes flew open. At first, he thought he'd gone blind; everything was pitch dark. But after a few moments, his eyes adjusted to the gloom, and he could pick out a few odd things. He was in a room much smaller than the one in which he had fought the demon, and it was much darker. There were no windows that he could see, or if there were, they had been boarded up. His torch had been dropped back in the other room, and the only source of light was coming from a hole in the roof. It lit up only a tiny section of the room; everything else was lost in shadow.

He was pressed against a wall; he could feel the rough texture of the brickwork through the back of his shirt and jacket. He could tell he was still in the warehouse because he could faintly hear Dean's unmistakeable voice bellowing, even if he couldn't tell what was being shouted. Just in front of him, directly in the light of the moon filtering into the building, Sam could see a small wooden table. On its surface was a jug, and just beside it, the knife the demon had used before. It was still stained with Dean's blood.

"You should have heard the things he's been calling me." The demon's voice caught Sam's attention and he turned towards the shadows it had come from. "If I had a heart, it would have broken."

"Where am I?" He asked, trying to control his anger and keep thinking straight.

"Relax; it'll be more enjoyable that way. For me at any rate."

She finally stepped into the light, brushing past the table. She picked the knife up as she did so, and began to twirl it between her fingers as she continued to approach him.

"What's that?" Sam nodded his head towards the jug on the table.

She smiled cruelly. "Holy oil. For your little feathery friend."

Sam glared at her. "Leave Cas alone."

She ignored him, and instead transported herself so that she was right in front of him in the blink of an eye, the blade pressing to his throat. "Got any last words, Winchester?" Her smile was wider than it had been all evening, eyes glinting even brighter in the dim light.

As Sam stood there, completely trapped, he truly believed that he was out of options. His brother was, he assumed, still fixed to one of the warehouse walls. Castiel, essentially human, in just as good a situation as Dean. Bobby may have been perfectly able to reach them, but he was at the motel. It would take nothing less than a miracle to somehow free himself from the demon's hold, _and_ hold her back without a weapon long enough to make a phone call. And Crowley wasn't an option, because Sam couldn't summon him without a ritual, and that was _definitely_ impossible.

He was screwed. Totally and utterly screwed. It would take nothing less than some sort of divine intervention to prevent –

And that's when the idea _finally_ struck him. He smiled, looking the demon in the eye.

"Just one," He said, "_Gabriel_."

For a moment, the demon's smile seemed to falter. Then, she was pressing the knife harder against his throat, practically beaming.

"Hate to burst your bubble there Winchester, but he can't do a damn thing to help you. I don't know if you heard or not, but you and your brother kind of got him killed, you see."

Sam ignored the horrible lurch in his stomach at these words, and chose to do the same to the flutter his heart gave at the next noise.

"Guess again, bitch."

Sam instantly screwed his eyes together out of instinct more than anything else. It turned out to be a very wise move on his part because next moment, blinding white light shone startlingly bright even behind his eyelids. He heard the demon give a blood-curdling shriek of agony, could smell sizzling flesh, could feel the heat as Gabriel's Grace slowly burned her. Then suddenly, the light was gone and so were the invisible restraints holding Sam to the wall, although he could still hear the scream ringing in his ears, and the smell was stuck in his nose.

He fell forwards, not expecting the sudden release of his trapped body, and landed on bent knees on the ground. He opened his eyes and looked up. A short distance before him, Gabriel was kicking away a charred corpse in a rather unceremonious way, a disgusted expression on his face. In the time it took him to blink, the archangel was knelt right in front of him, invading his personal space, hand pressed against the back of his head.

"Good thing you've got common sense, Sammy." He muttered as he got to work healing Sam's injuries. The younger hunter had to hold himself back from jumping the archangel at his touch combined with the sudden warmth spreading all the way through his body. "You two are still hidden from me, courtesy of Castiel's sigils on your ribs, and he thinks I'm dead so he wouldn't have thought of calling me."

"How'd you hear me?" Sam asked, barely managing to contain a whimper when Gabriel removed his hand from his head, healing process complete.

"What?" The archangel asked, finally meeting Sam's gaze.

"Cas only usually responds to Dean. Said something like his bond with Dean being more profound the last time I asked him about it."

Gabriel grinned, and Sam felt his heart flutter again. "It's because I like you Sammy, a damn sight more than Deano. Speaking of," He got to his feet and pulled Sam up with him. "Let's go find him."

"You're coming with me?" Sam asked, grinning himself. "You know Dean's not going to react well when he sees you, right?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Yeah well, if me revealing myself means I can be there to save your sorry butts when you find yourselves in too deep, then so be it. Fun though this was."

Sam felt his smile grow at the archangel's response. He couldn't help but notice Gabriel had referred to the both of them, but had only ever lifted a finger to save him when he personally was in danger. Back in that house, Gabriel could have easily burned the ghost's bones when she was attacking Dean. But he waited until _Sam_ was in danger before stepping in. And Gabriel had even admitted to preferring him over Dean just now. Maybe Sam was clutching at straws, or trying to find signs when there were none. But the thought alone cheered him up, if nothing else.

Gabriel led the way out of a door hidden in shadows at the far end of the room, down a flight of stairs and along a corridor until they faced a set of familiar double doors. All the while, neither of them spoke for their own separate reasons. Sam was trailing behind Gabriel slightly, and it totally _wasn't_ so that he could stare at the archangel from behind. Not. At. All.

Gabriel meanwhile, was deep in thought about what the Cupid had said to him earlier, and whether or not the theory held any water. Sure, he cared about the younger Winchester. Quite a lot, if he was going to be brutally honest about it. And yes, the thought of the kid in danger of any type made him wish death and destruction upon the inflictor. And yeah, maybe most of the times he'd decided to bug the Winchesters; it had been somehow revolved around Sam. Back in the present, Gabriel grinned and shook his head. Since when had he been so blind? He had failed to notice something developing over a long while that a younger, less evolved sibling of his had spotted in a matter of days. But the Cupid was right.

Gabriel _was_ hiding something from a certain Winchester. He _did_ have the exact same traits Castiel showed when he looked at Dean. He really _was_ the biggest hypocrite going. Because he _was_ in love with Sam Winchester.

But there was no way Sam was going to find that out. He'd probably run a mile in the opposite direction if he did. And Gabriel honestly wouldn't blame him. He rolled his eyes at his own inner musings, wondering just when it was he'd turned into such a teenage girl. As they reached the doors, both he and Sam pushed open a different one at the same time.

They both froze to the spot as soon as they'd taken one step over the threshold.

Then, before he could stop himself, Gabriel cried, "Oh my Dad!"


	11. Iris

**Author's Note:** I won't lie, all of the messages about how evil I was with that cliffhanger really made me laugh xD I know, it was mean, and I'm very, very sorry xD I hope you all can forgive me with the quick update and new chapter? Please? :)

Okay, enjoy! :D

* * *

><p><em>And I'd give up forever to touch you<em>

'_Cos I know that you feel me somehow_

_You're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be_

_And I don't want to go home right now_

_And all I can taste is this moment_

_And all I can breathe is your life_

_And sooner or later it's over_

_I just don't wanna miss you tonight_

"You _bitch_! Get your demonic ass back here, _now_!"

"Dean, I do not believe she will listen to you, despite how loudly you are yelling."

"Come _back_! If you hurt Sammy I swear, I'll make you regret it!" Dean continued to scream at the top of his voice, ignoring Castiel, struggling against his invisible bonds.

Beside him, the angel could still feel that unfamiliar stirring deep inside his being. He was so unaccustomed to feeling even the slightest hint of human emotion, the new experience had startled him into silence when the demon had been disappearing with Sam in her arms. He had tried twice now to silence Dean's futile shouting, but to no avail. The human only struggled harder, shouted louder, every time his requests went ignored. And now, watching Dean continue to bellow, a new emotion began to spread through Castiel's body, starting in his chest.

It was pain, blinding and hot. It felt as if his torso were contracting, shrinking into itself. As an angel, he was unused to such pains without physical wounding, and the new sensation took him by surprise. It only got worse the longer he watched Dean, who was now simply yelling profanities. He found a sudden urge to touch the hunter; to embrace him. For some reason Castiel couldn't explain, he wanted to hold Dean in his arms until the fight fled him, assuring him that everything was alright. To be stuck next to him, utterly useless in every way, was excruciating.

He wanted to help Dean, but once again, had succeeded in only being more of a problem. His eyes strayed to the blood on Dean's arm, and he realised with a sinking feeling in his stomach just how true that was. Coming back _was_ a mistake. He should have never been brought back. He deserved to die, after all. He should have done Dean a favour and _stayed_ dead. It wasn't like he was doing anything helpful, anyway.

It wasn't like Dean needed him the same way he had discovered he needed Dean.

When this realisation hit, Castiel's head dropped like a stone, his eyes fixed on the floor. Dean spotted the sudden movement from the corner of his eye, and turned to study the angel, the action finally snapping him out of his rage at the demon. Seeing the angel look so dejected and _broken_ sent an uncomfortable flutter through Dean's heart, and he wanted to fix it. Now.

"Hey, Cas..?" He said, his voice a lot quieter and much softer.

When the angel didn't acknowledge the fact he'd heard in any way, Dean tried a different tactic. His hand was only millimetres from where Castiel's was trapped to the wall. He managed to stretch his finger until he was just about able to prod the tip of the angel's index finger.

"Cas?" He tried again.

But Castiel still refused to move. Dean felt frustration bubbling up inside his chest now. He knew he should keep control of his temper; that getting angry would solve nothing. But he couldn't help it. Here he was, forcing himself to calm down when his brother had been taken by a demon to try and find out what was wrong with Castiel, and the angel wouldn't even grant him the courtesy of paying him attention.

"Cas, you feathery bastard, _look_ at me!"

Although the angel's head remained downturned, he turned it slightly so that one blue eye was watching Dean carefully.

"You are injured because of me." It was almost silent, barely audible, but at least Castiel was talking.

"_That's_ what's bugging you? Jeez Cas, _you_ did worse to me when I was gonna say yes to Michael."

Well, that was definitely the worst thing Dean could have said. The hunter watched as Castiel's eye closed and his face became a picture of heart-wrenched guilt before he turned away. Dean felt something lurch inside his chest, his heart hammering against his ribs. Seeing Castiel look like that, even for a fleeting glimpse, was horrible. It left him feeling cold, realising he had been the one to cause that expression.

"Cas, hey, it's okay. I needed it!" He said quickly, desperate for Castiel to look at him again, for that expression to be gone. "I owe you for that! You knocked some sense into me!"

"And now I am letting you down once again, for failing to save Sam."

"That's not your fault either. Sam's a big boy, he can take care of himself. I'm sure he's fine." Dean lied through his teeth. He was certain of the very opposite in fact; that his brother was in extreme danger. But he found he was willing to say anything, any damn thing that leapt to mind, just to make Castiel feel better; to stop him feeling guilty. "And as for before you died? Cas, you just did what you thought was right. You know I forgive you for that, don't you?"

"I deserved my fate, Dean."

"Bullshit, Cas!" Dean snapped, temper fraying. To hear the angel talk about how he deserved to die was the final straw for the hunter. "You talk like it's a punishable by death offence to make a mistake! It's not like me and Sam have never made any!"

"You did not release Leviathans onto the planet, nor did you betray those who considered you family." Castiel argued, finally looking at Dean again. The hunter met his gaze, hiding the wince as he remembered the words he'd yelled at the angel shortly before his trip to the reservoir.

"I was a moron for saying that, Cas. And you're looking at the guy who kick-started the Apocalypse, remember? I broke the first seal. I started the whole thing. If anyone deserves to die for something, it's me."

Castiel's eyes flashed and when he spoke, his tone was one of anger. "Do not say that, Dean."

"It's true, Cas! If you're gonna use that argument against me, I'm using it against you! Point is, you thought you were acting for the best. All I did was stop fighting against being tortured. You were trying to stop a second Apocalypse." Dean sighed, trying to ignore the churning in his stomach that had started up upon remembering Hell. "And if anyone's useless right now or to blame for what's happened to Sam, it's me. You're not used to be relying on human weapons; you've usually got your mojo to crispy fry the suckers. I'm meant to be the one that kills these things this way, and I let her get the better of me."

"You are spinning the facts to suit your argument, Dean."

"Got you talking though." He smiled weakly, and felt his heart thump like a teenager's when Castiel mirrored it back to him.

"Why did you wish to hear me speaking?"

Dean drew a blank on that one. How was he supposed to say that he wanted to hear Castiel's voice? How could he phrase it in any way that didn't make him sound like a hormonal girl? _Yeah Cas, it's because I wanted to hear you talk, 'cos the sound of your voice makes me go all gooey inside_. Yeah. He'd be damned before he ever admitted _that_ out loud. It was bad enough that it was true; hearing that deep, gravelly voice that could only ever belong to one being left him reeling, infatuated like a teenager again.

In the end he was saved from answering because of what happened next.

Castiel's head snapped up without warning, making Dean jump, and his eyes were wide. The smile faded from his face, to be replaced with a confused frown. He turned away from Dean to face towards the set of double doors they'd been heading towards when first entering the room. The hunter was about to ask what was wrong when the bonds holding them against the wall vanished without warning, making both of them fall forwards.

Dean grinned as he landed on bent knee, hands bracing his fall on the floor in front of him. "Told you Sammy could take care of himself!" He cried to Castiel, trying to disguise the fact that he'd actually been worried sick.

As he got to his feet to wait for Sam's return to them, his eyes slid away from the doors Castiel was still fixated on to the angel himself. Castiel was standing as straight-backed as ever, arms almost strapped to his sides. He was staring unblinkingly at the doors, completely oblivious to the fact he was getting stared at himself; receiving almost as much attention if not more from the hunter as he was giving the doors.

Dean's eyes were sweeping up and down his body, taking in everything, remembering flashes from his dream that had helped spread so much confusion inside his mind. He could pick out the way Castiel's stomach dipped, and longed to run his hands over the smooth skin hiding beneath. He found he was watching the way the angel's lips were slightly parted, and knew he wanted to shove him to the wall as he had in his dream, and claim that mouth for himself. He wanted to explore every inch of the angel's perfect body, because although it was a vessel, it was still _Cas_.

He wasn't sure when it had happened. It could have been months ago, hell, maybe longer than that. But slowly, over the course of the past few days, Dean had come to a realisation about himself that had taken him much longer to accept than it should have done.

Castiel was the one who had dragged him out of Hell. He had then put Dean back together, piece by broken piece. Over time they spent together, it had been he, Dean, who had morphed the once law-abiding warrior into someone who questioned, who actually _felt_ things and could understand when their orders were just plain _wrong_. It had been for him that Castiel had rebelled, had sacrificed everything, again and again, always for Dean. And every time the angel fell, every time he was killed because of his allegiance, he always came back. He always remained loyal, to Dean.

Dean had found himself unable to get rid of the trench coat after Castiel's walk into the waters. It kept him going, stopped the numbing pain that had threatened to captivate him when Castiel died from fully taking hold. He told himself that one day, just like every other time, Castiel would eventually be returned to him. For once, he _believed_. The thought of finally pushing the coat back into the arms of the shocked angel kept him going, kept him strong. Because he felt it had to be _him_ that gave the coat back; no-one else would do.

And it couldn't be denied; when he awoke and found Castiel lying next to him in his bed, his initial shock had quickly been ebbing away to be replaced with wonderful elation. But he had allowed his temper to get the better of him upon discovering the bond, and everything he had meant to say somehow got lost on the way to his mouth. He wanted to tell Castiel how badly it had hurt without him, how close he had been to giving up on several occasions, how relieved he was that the angel was back with them, with _him_. But just like every other time he tried to give a chick-flick moment a go, it royally backfired.

And then there was the image that had flashed into his brain at the bar, and the dream that had been hounding him ever since he had had it. There could be no denying the fact both had aroused him, the dream quite a bit more so. There was equally no point in denying that whenever he glanced at Castiel now, he was hit with a montage of memories from it, leaving him feeling the need to jump the angel right the fuck _now_. But it was more than simple lust or longing that was causing him to feel that way, Dean knew. Castiel was special to him. He wasn't just someone Dean could sleep with and walk away from guilt free the morning after. It wasn't because he hadn't had any sort of action for a while now that had caused that dream to happen, or for more than a few inappropriate thoughts to fill his head regarding the angel.

It was something that had been lingering at the back of his mind for a while now, nagging away at him. He had always brushed the concept off as nonsense and ludicrous, but the simple fact was, it _wasn't_.

"Hey, Cas? Look at me a sec, will you?" Dean said quietly.

The angel twitched, presumably surprised at his tone of voice, and turned around. Dean felt like a high school girl admitting it, but seeing those intense blue eyes made his heart thump. He studied the angel as hard as the angel was studying him in return, scanning every inch of his face. The blue eyes that were too bright to be human, the frankly adorable head tilt showing his confusion, the way his lips moved as he spoke.

"Dean?"

He didn't know when Castiel had managed to crawl so far under his skin. He had no idea when the angel had burrowed into his heart and lodged himself firmly in there. He was clueless as to just when he, Dean Winchester, had fallen for the angel that had gripped him tight and raised him from Perdition. But the simple fact was; he had. He was ashamed it had taken him so long to realise, but better late than never, right?

And he'd lost the angel too many damn times already to not do anything about it now that he knew and accepted the truth.

Without saying another word, he moved forwards so that he was standing right in front of Castiel. The angel seemed rather surprised because, for once, it was his personal space that was being invaded. Then, remembering to move slower than he usually did, Dean lifted his hand and curled it around Castiel's cheek, touching his jaw. It was different to be touching rough stubble rather than smooth skin, but it felt strangely _right_. The angel stared at him with questioning eyes, but Dean offered no reply other than an encouraging smile, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat was rocketing. He slid his hand around the side of Castiel's face, coming to a rest buried in his short, dark hair.

And then, taking a deep breath as he leapt off the metaphorical ledge, he gently applied pressure to the back of Castiel's head, urging the angel forwards. Castiel allowed his body to be moved, and Dean was grateful that he was curious as to what the hunter was doing more than anything else. He paused when their lips were barely an inch away, giving Castiel a chance to back out, to stop this now. But he didn't, and nor did Dean.

It was the hunter who came to meet the angel, kissing him softer than he had kissed anyone before, flattening his hand out against the back of Castiel's skull. The angel felt frozen and tense beneath his lips, and Dean felt sick with fear once again. He didn't like feeling vulnerable, and having taken this leap with Castiel was terrifying. What if the angel rejected him? He'd have lost one of the only true friends he'd ever had.

But something interrupted both Dean's mental jargon and their kiss.

It was the banging of the doors, shortly followed by a yell.

"Oh my Dad!"


	12. Forgiven

_Now I'm in our secret place_

_Alone in your embrace_

_Where all my wrongs have been erased_

_You have forgiven_

_All the promises and lies_

_All the times I compromised_

_All the times you were denied_

_You have forgiven_

Bobby Singer was definitely far from perfect. He was moody and liable to erupt with more destructive force than a volcano when pushed far enough, or in the right places. He gave his all when it came to those he cared for, most of the time without thought or concern for himself. And it was mostly taken for granted, mainly from Dean and Sam Winchester. But he kept on giving, offering them a home when they had none, showing them support when they felt at their weakest. He was stubborn and argumentative, and defended his corner with an unwillingness to back down that frankly was rare nowadays. He was deeply emotionally scarred from the loss of his wife, and it was unlikely that scar would ever truly heal.

And yet it was these imperfections and flaws that had first attracted Crowley's attention in the first place.

The King of Hell had no interest in something that was perfect; demons rarely liked things that were pure or wholly untainted. It was in his nature to take something like that and twist it, morphing it into a thing of darkness and evil. Holding Bobby's soul as he had done for that brief time gave Crowley plenty of time to find all of its scars and blemishes, to find things about the hunter he never had before. And before he'd realised what was happening, he found himself intrigued by Bobby. The way he was knocked down and got straight back up again, the way he was a constant source of support for 'his boys', the way he kept plugging away, never backing down or giving up the fight.

And so Crowley found himself watching Bobby from a distance even after he had returned the soul. He was reluctant to give it back, found he wanted to keep it about his person for however long he continued to live, ensuring it stayed intact and safe. He told himself he was being pathetic after coming to that rather embarrassing realisation. He was the _King of Hell_ after all. What the hell was he doing, pining after some _human_? But he continued to check up on the hunter all the same, keeping tabs on him, making sure he was safe.

At first, when he had found himself physically chained to Bobby, he was furious. On principle, he detested anything that believed itself to be his master; to be in control of _him_. He was his own boss, had never been one for taking orders. So to be trapped in a place and for something to be well and truly out of his span of control left him in a rage.

But after a while, he had come to appreciate it. After all, it meant that he was able to spend time near Bobby and his soul without feeling creepy or like a stalker about it. He found himself admiring the little quirks Bobby had after a while. Like staying up until God knew what time at night, reading through book after book, trying to help solve whatever the Winchester brothers had brought crashing down on all of them this time around, or automatically pouring the demon a glass of whiskey despite how much he bitched and moaned about how it was swill. And after a couple of days had passed, Bobby relaxed a little in his company, and Crowley got to see a side of him that wasn't revolving around the job. It was different, and he found he rather liked it.

He had meant what he'd said in the Winchester's motel room. He _was_ enjoying Bobby's company, and he genuinely wasn't saying it just to get on everyone's last wick.

But the conversation that had taken place around him back at that moment had caught his attention, and he'd begun listening intently. The mention of angels intervening had gripped him, and it had started the cogs turning in his brain. It was perfectly true that an angel would have had the power to do the things that had been happening to them all; it certainly wasn't a Cupid. That idea was frankly laughable. And after all, what creature did something from Heaven ever take orders from, other than the Almighty Himself or a higher-ranking angel? So, Crowley had started trying to subtly look for the faintest sense, the smallest clue as to what was behind everything. And finally, his patience paid off.

It had happened the next day. He could feel the tensions building in the Winchester's motel room, and found the whole thing rather amusing in all honesty. When Bobby had glanced up from the latest leather-bound journal he was scouring to ask what was so funny, he'd simply shrugged his shoulders and grinned wider. Bobby had replied with his usual eye roll and mutter of 'Idjit', which only made Crowley's smile grow even further. And that was when he'd sensed it. It was unmistakeable, and he could pinpoint it anywhere. The aura of an angel, and a powerful one at that. Michael and Lucifer, he knew, were still locked safely in the Cage. Raphael was dead; he'd witnessed the evidence of that himself. So that left just one; Gabriel.

At first, he'd been tempted to speak his mind, to tell Bobby what he'd realised. But then he got to thinking. If he just came out and said it, Bobby would march round to Dean and then _he'd_ storm outside and demand that their bonds be broken. Crowley took a chance to observe Bobby from where he sat. The older hunter was muttering under his breath as his eyes scanned the page, completely absorbed in his work. The demon felt a smile playing at his lips, a genuine one, and his eyes fell back to the table. Maybe he wasn't ready to be separated from Bobby and that unique soul of his just yet.

He let a sigh escape him and didn't acknowledge the confused expression Bobby shot him for it. When had he fallen so far from his former glory? And why didn't he give a single damn about it?

Later that evening, after the Winchesters and Castiel had left to hunt the demon, Bobby and Crowley were still sat on the sofa in their own motel room. Crowley was idly flicking through channels on the television set, never pausing on one thing for very long, a look of intense boredom on his face. Bobby was beside him, yet another book perched in his lap, glass of cheap whiskey in the other. Every so often, Crowley would sigh with irritation and jab his thumb down on the remote, and Bobby would look up at the interruption to fix the demon a glare.

He could remember the first time he'd ever met the demon. He'd shot him. Twice. And sometimes it was more than tempting to do so again, particularly when they were first shackled together. He was almost ready, more than once, to drag the demon to Dean's room and order him to shoot Crowley there and then. The demon was arrogant, he was crafty and he was willing to push others into the line of fire to protect himself. But despite all of that, Crowley was interesting to have around. He was funny, there was no point denying it, he was charismatic and he was a worthy adversary of Bobby's own sarcasm. And he'd allowed Bobby to keep the use of his legs after he'd been forced to give back his soul. It was a bizarre, totally out-of-character act that had left the older hunter very confused for quite a long time. Hell, even now, he was clueless as to why Crowley had displayed such an usual sign of kindness.

He could never remain truly fuming at the demon either. He'd get angry, no doubt about it, but after a while it'd melt away again, and if anyone had a right to hold a grudge over Crowley, it was him or Dean. Dean certainly showed exactly how he felt about the King of Hell, but Bobby didn't feel the rage at Crowley that Dean did. At first, he'd told himself it was because getting pissy whenever he had to interact with Crowley while they were stuck with one another would serve no purpose, and that he'd just have to bury his hate. But that was the point; there was no hate to bury.

When he'd first been trapped with Crowley, he'd wanted to get the hell away again as quickly as he could. But the longer he spent with the demon, the more time they were alone, the more he began to feel comfortable in his company. Almost as if Crowley was an old friend, and not something that had once held his soul. They bickered, they exchanged witty retorts and quips, but there was no real malice in it. And recently, he'd begun to feel a spark inside himself that he thought had been long extinguished. It grew, little by little, every time the demon made a flirtatious comment, or he brushed past Bobby and the hunter's skin touched the demon's. There was the unmistakeable tingle of electricity, and Bobby knew Crowley had noticed it too; he'd caught enough of the demon's surprised expressions afterwards.

But he was being ridiculous. Why in the name of God Himself was he acting like some lovesick teenage girl around the _King of Hell_? It was dangerous territory, but Crowley was addicting, and slowly but surely, Bobby found himself craving more. But right now, all he wanted to do was take the book he was holding and smack the demon around the head with it.

He closed it with a snap as Crowley changed channels _yet again_, just in time for the sound of a huge explosion to fill the room, making Bobby jump. "For God's sake, if you can't find something to watch, just turn the damn thing off!"

Crowley peered across at him, frowning. "Is it bugging you _that_ much?"

"I'd like to see you try and focus on reading when every five seconds the background noise changes."

The demon sighed, and switched the set off. "There. Happy now?" He began tapping his fingers on the arm of the sofa, looking sulky. Bobby's glare returned to his face, grip tightening on the book and glass as he refrained from throwing one of the objects at the demon.

"And cut that out too, ya idjit."

"I'm _bored_."

"Then find something to do to entertain yourself!" Bobby snapped, before he opened the book again.

"Sure thing, darling." Crowley replied with a sly grin.

He had just reached the end of the line he'd been reading before he'd got distracted by his own mental ramblings, when the book was grabbed and pulled out of his hand. He looked up, ready to snap at Crowley, to ask him just what the fuck he was playing at, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth. The demon was right in his face, grin spreading from ear to ear, leaning ever closer. One hand was guiding the book gently to the floor whilst the other was positioned against the sofa arm directly next to Bobby's back. And then, with no warning whatsoever, Crowley pressed his lips to Bobby's.

The hunter's mind exploded with a flurry of questions. Why was Crowley _kissing_ him? What had brought _this_ on? Why the hell wasn't he fighting back? And, probably most importantly, why did he _like_ it? It wasn't just down to the fact he hadn't had any action for who knew how long; no, this was something more. It was different to the kiss they'd shared when Crowley was sealing his deal. There was no genuine purpose to this kiss, and it was softer; much gentler than Bobby had ever imagined Crowley could be. And then there was the now familiar spark that roared into life the moment they touched.

The demon pulled back a moment later, grin still lacing his lips. "I've told you to lay off that cheap crap, Bobby." He said, inclining his head towards the glass still in the hunter's other hand. "Tastes awful."

And without waiting for a reply, he was leaning in to capture the hunter's lips once more. Only this time, Bobby didn't sit there unresponsive. He kissed back, leaning down to place the glass on the floor, research long forgotten.

* * *

><p>Well, the sound of <em>that<em> voice snapped Dean out of his trance quicker than anything else would have done. He instantly felt anger pulsing all around his body as he pulled away from Castiel to peer around him at the door. And standing there, right beside Sam, was the midget archangel himself. Dean felt his anger turn swiftly to rage, and he stepped past Castiel to glare more effectively at Gabriel.

"_You_?" He snarled. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Oh that's rich!" Gabriel replied indignantly. "I think if anyone's got the right to be asking questions around here, Winchester, it's gonna be me! Mind telling me why you were sucking face with my brother just now?"

Dean spluttered, going from pale to scarlet in the blink of an eye. Eventually, he managed to squeak, "'Sucking face'? Hardly!"

"Oh, so you _want_ to be sucking face with him?" Gabriel questioned, folding his arms over his chest. Beside him, Sam was covering his mouth with his hand, badly disguising the fact he was sniggering.

Thankfully, Dean was saved from answering this time by Castiel. The angel had stood behind Dean, observing him cryptically, even more focused than normal, head tilted slightly. And as the hunter began another uncanny impersonation of a goldfish, a small smile crossed his face. The angel then reached forwards and tapped the hunter on the shoulder. Dean whirled around, and when he did, the lapels of his jacket were instantly seized. Dean only had time to register the smile on Castiel's face as he was tugged forwards, before his lips collided once more with Castiel's.

The angel was still gripping his lapels tightly, as if he couldn't bear to let Dean go. This thought made him kiss Castiel harder, momentarily forgetting about the angel's lack of knowledge or experience in the field. But it seemed he was a fast learner. The hands on his jacket only pulled harder, bringing them even closer, melding their bodies together.

Dean had just angled his head, arms wrapped tightly around Castiel to deepen the kiss even further, when he heard a faint snapping sound. Blinking, he pulled away from the angel, his face a picture of shock and confusion. Castiel looked equally as baffled as he did, before his eyes widened. Without a word, he released his grip on Dean, and backed away a few steps. The hunter started to move after him and then stopped when he realised just how far away Castiel had managed to get. He remained fixed in place, jaw hanging, before he raised his arm to his eye line.

"It's broken?" He asked, eyes sliding from his pale wrist to stare at Castiel.

"I.. I believe so." The angel replied, and then in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Dean only had time to start before he was back, and at a much closer proximity to Dean, small smile lacing his lips. "It appears I have also had my powers returned to me."

"Yep," Gabriel's voice rang out from the doors. "It's cos the two of you _finally_ opened your eyes!"

"How do you.." Dean began, but trailed off as the expression on his face darkened.

"Oh come _on_ Deano! I know Sammy's the bright one, but this obvious, even for you! All you had to do was be a little honest with yourself, do a little self-reflection, and voila! Bond removed!" Gabriel grinned. "Although I must say, I was seriously debating whether I should just appear in front of you guys and _make_ you kiss. It would have been much quicker and easier, on reflection."

"_You_.. Did this..?" Dean snarled, green eyes turning the colour and coldness of steel in a heartbeat.

"Well _yeah_, Deano." Gabriel said, tone making it sound as if this was obvious. "Who else could it have been? Besides, you two would never have moved past eye-fucking if I hadn't taken it upon myself to help you move on."

"He's got a point, Dean." Sam said with a grin. "Neither of you were gonna make the first move without a push to force you to."  
>"Exactly! All I had to do was get a Cupid to cover for me, but nooo, I underestimated that infamous Winchester stubborn streak." Gabriel heaved a dramatic sigh, grinning up at Sam as he did so.<p>

"You.. I.. I'm gonna grab you by the neck and.." Dean seemed beyond words, and resorted to making a violent gesture in mid-air with his hands.

"That's a little harsh, don't ya think..?" Gabriel asked, pouting.

Dean was silenced when he felt a warm hand enclose over the wound on his arm. In the blink of an eye, it was gone. Even his clothes were cleaned of blood, leaving no evidence there had ever been a cut in the first place. Then, before he could say a word, he felt the ground twitch out from underneath his feet before it was suddenly back with such force, it left him staggering. Luckily, a pair of strong arms were before him in an instant, ready to catch him. He found himself back in their motel room and glanced up into Castiel's face, to see that the angel was _smirking_.

"You will never grow accustomed to flying, will you, Dean?"

Dean shook his head, then spotted his bed just behind them and felt a predatory smirk curl his own mouth. He leant up to press another kiss to Castiel, and pulled away again quickly. And he totally didn't get a rush of happiness when Castiel moved after him, looking disappointed. He _didn't_.

"Come with me, Cas." He said, taking the angel's hand and leading him across the room.

"Where are we going?" Castiel sounded genuinely confused, and when Dean glanced back, his head was tilted to the side.

"I'm gonna teach you a new way to get to Heaven, Cas." He replied, and felt a kick of exhilaration when Castiel's cheeks gained a gentle pink hue. It only got worse when _that_ smirk returned, and Castiel's gaze hardened.

"Yes Dean, teach me."

It was almost as if he _knew_ the dream Dean had had, and was deliberately doing all he could to remind the hunter of it. Dean smiled as that thought crossed his mind, removing Castiel's trench coat and suit jacket, allowing both to fall to floor. It was almost surreal that he'd reached this point. He had no idea how the angel had managed to work his way into Dean's every conscious thought, but he knew he didn't regret it. Not for a second.

He didn't know when it had happened, but there was no point in denying it anymore, was there?

Dean Winchester was in love with an angel of the Lord; with Castiel. And if the look in the angel's stunning blue eyes was anything to go by as he pulled Dean back towards him, the feeling was mutual.

He found out two things that evening. The first was that Castiel, although inexperienced in every sense of the word when it came to physical contact, was a very fast learner and as an angel, unused to being dominated. The second, and probably most significant discovery, was that not all virgins just lay there and allowed their first experience to wash over them. _This_ virgin could give as good as he got.

* * *

><p>"So.. Whatcha wanna do, kiddo?"<p>

Sam glanced across at Gabriel, eyebrows rising. "Hm?"

They were both stood in the motel car park. After Dean and Castiel had vanished, Gabriel took Sam's hand and flew them back to the complex. Sam could still feel the warmth of the archangel's touch on his fingers, and he was in no hurry for it to fade. He had sat himself down on the floor, his back pressed to their car, resting after the night's tiring festivities. He was surprised when the archangel took a seat beside him, rather than zap himself off to a chocolate factory or whatever the hell it was he did to unwind.

"Well, I highly doubt you want to go anywhere _near_ your room right now.." Gabriel smirked.

Sam grimaced. "Yeah, I'll pass on the chance to see my brother defiling an angel. I thought we could go sit with Bobby and -"

Gabriel, however, smirked even wider at that as his eyes slid over to the rough direction Bobby's motel room was. "Not a good idea. Unless you _want_ to be haunted forever by the mental image of your adoptive father getting fucked b-"

"AAGH!" Sam screamed, pressing his hands over his ears. "GABRIEL!"

The archangel was roaring with laughter, clutching at his sides. "It's true!"

"Doesn't mean I need to hear about it!" Sam cried, shuddering. "Oh God, brain bleach! Brain bleach!"

Gabriel was still sniggering beside him, and even Sam felt a smile breaking through his horrified expression after a while. The archangel was infectious in every sense of the word; his laugh and smile the most contagious of the whole package. The younger Winchester leant back further against the cool metal of the car, head thrown back, staring up at the sky. The inky carpet of darkness was broken only by a smattering of silvery stars. The clouds had been chased away, leaving the night blissfully clear and cool. Sam glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Gabriel staring just as intently at the stars as he was.

And that's when a question popped into his head.

"Hey, Gabriel?"

The archangel turned away from the sky to look up at Sam. "Yeah?"

"Trying to keep the maturity of this conversation at adult level here, but.. You said you liked me, back at the warehouse. What was that about?"

He could _hear_ his heartbeat speed ing and was shocked that the archangel couldn't too. A small voice in the back of his head was screaming that he was making a mistake; that he should shut the fuck up, right now. It was stupid to take a risk, to ask Gabriel a question like that, when it was obvious how comfortable he was in Sam's presence. What if Sam's questioning freaked him out? What if he ran away again, but didn't come back this time? Sam had only just got Gabriel back, and now he was risking losing him again. But the question was out now, there was no turning back.

He was expecting a shrug, and for Gabriel to nonchalantly announce that he had no idea what Sam was referring to, or for him to fix Sam with a confused expression. In the least, he expected a short, blunt explanation about how Sam was more accepting than Dean, and therefore more likeable, but in a strictly friend-zone basis. The thought of _that_ particular reaction sent a wave of ice cold slipping down Sam's spine as he silently pleaded for any other sort of response. Hell, confusion was _far_ better than flat out denial any day.

But what hadn't even crossed his mind was for the archangel's hazel eyes to widen substantially, and for him to look away abruptly, remaining silent. Sam noticed the familiar twitch of his shoulders, and his mind jolted him back to earlier when Gabriel had shown him the shadows of his wings. Panicked that Gabriel was going to try and escape by flying away, Sam reached forwards and grabbed a handful of the archangel's shirt. Through the fabric, he could feel the archangel's back and the jutting bones that were his shoulder blades.

"You're not going anywhere 'til you answer me." He said firmly, but they both knew that if Gabriel chose to leave, there was practically nothing Sam could do to stop him. He _was_ an archangel, after all.

But Gabriel didn't move. He didn't try to brush Sam's hand off his jacket. He remained sat there beside Sam, his head turned away towards the motel rooms, the shadows of the car completely obscuring the expression on his face. He was giving Sam a perfect view of his exposed neck, and the hunter could still feel the smooth run of his back. It was causing his imagination to wander to certain other places which was especially dangerous right now. Gabriel could read his mind. He shook his head, desperate to clear those particular thoughts.

After a few moments of further silence, Sam gave the clothes in his hand a gentle tug.

"Hey, don't make me go get Cas to bind _us_ together." He said with an attempt at a grin. "I doubt Dean would be too happy with you if I burst in, saying I need to borrow Cas and his angel mojo just 'cos you won't answer me."

That made Gabriel laugh, and the sound warmed a little more of Sam inside, even though it only lasted a moment or so. "Not only would Castiel not be able to do that, Sammy, I doubt you'd enjoy the experience much. I'd drive you crazy."

Sam scoffed, and continued before his courage fled him again. "Seriously? You see _everything_ about Dean and Cas, and Bobby and _Crowley_, but with me, you're blind?"

He released his grip on Gabriel's jacket and instead curled his fingers around the archangel's chin, before applying gentle pressure to make Gabriel look at him. With his angelic strength, Gabriel wouldn't have allowed himself to be moved unless he wanted to, so Sam was genuinely shocked when the archangel moved easily in his grasp in order to face him. His hazel eyes were gleaming, too bright to not be ethereal, his eyebrows knotted in confusion.

"I dunno when or how you did it Gabe, but somewhere along the line, I might have just fallen for you." Sam whispered, voice weak, and before he could talk himself out of it, leant forwards and pressed his lips to Gabriel's.

The archangel made a muffled noise of surprise, before he squirmed. Sam was forced to pull back, his heart going a mile a minute. His hand slipped from Gabriel's face, all colour draining out of his own. The voice in his head was screaming again, telling him to come up with something, anything, that would sound remotely convincing. But the fact was, there _wasn't_ anything he could say to rectify the situation.

He'd taken a shot and he'd got shot down. It was as simple as that.

What did he expect, really? This was _Gabriel_. He was a fricking _archangel_. What the hell would he want with someone like _Sam_? Someone broken, twisted beyond repair? Someone who –

"You have got about three seconds to shut up before _I_ shut you up." Gabriel snarled suddenly, looking far more menacing than he had in the warehouse.

As Sam watched, his face the picture of shock, the fury in his expression ebbed away to be replaced with a suggestive grin. As the hunter sat there frozen, Gabriel's hand made its way to bunch up in his shirt, tugging him down violently so that they were sat at the same eye line. The now warm spark in Gabriel's eyes coupled with the grin still fixed in place were chasing away Sam's inner terror, to be replaced with something much warmer, much more _demanding_.

"Wanna see what _else_ I can do with those bonds, Sammy?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"To quote you, hells yeah." Sam replied, mirroring Gabriel's smirk, feeling something stir deep within him at the thought.

**~ * ~ Fin ~ * ~**

**Hope you guys enjoyed this! I certainly enjoyed writing it (When writer's block wasn't being a royal assbutt..), and reading your lovely reviews always put such a big smile on my face! :D I love you all! I'll happily give you all the hugs Castiel deserves! **


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